


War of the Roses

by UnicornofAmber



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornofAmber/pseuds/UnicornofAmber
Summary: Set well before Nine Princes, in a more "innocent" time.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 6





	1. A golden childhood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OneTrueStudent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneTrueStudent/gifts).



“Deirdre, go on quickly!”

“But Cowwin-”

“Go, save yourself!” The older brother pushed his sister behind him when the enemy approached. 

“You can’t escape me now.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Corwin replied as as he held his sword up.

“Good.” The enemy smirked and charged towards the prince, who managed to block his first two attacks before managing to wound the man on his shoulder. “You think such a wound is going to stop me?! I’ll defeat you, and take your precious little princess with me!

“Never!” Corwin screamed, launching at the attacker and ferociously began to swing his sword around. 

It was with ease that the attacker evaded the prince’s attacks, and it wasn’t long before he found an opening, made use of it and stabbed Corwin in the stomach. 

“No…” Corwin whispered as he dropped his sword and looked down to his wound. “No, you won’t take- hu-”

Another cry pierced through the little glade and Eric toppled over the demon before it could give his brother the final blow. “You-won’t-take-my-brother!” The older prince screamed inbetween his attacks. “Die, you wurm!” With a scream, Eric’s blade pierced through the demon’s neck, causing the demon to die in his own blood. “Corwin- Corwin, my brother! No, no please no!” Eric began to plead as he threw his wooden stick aside and began to cradle his brother in his arms. 

“Eric, ple- please take care of...her.”

“No, I won’t let you die on me!” Eric glanced to Deirdre. “Princess you can save him!”

“Me?”

Eric’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, yes you can. You need to give him a kiss so he can heal himself.” Eric guided her towards their fallen brother and knelt next to her. “It is not just any kiss, you know. Your heart has to be pure.”

“But my heart is, it truly is!” Deirdre tried to convince her brother.

“Alright.” Eric watched their sister kiss Corwin on the forehead and waited along with her. And waited even more. It came to the point where Deirdre was getting worried and somewhat annoyed at Corwin to increase the drama, Eric ‘subtly’ put a thorn through his boot. 

With a yelp, Corwin came back ‘to life’. “Princess, you saved me!” Corwin laughed somewhat sourly, reached for his foot to pull the thorn out and shot an annoying look at Eric. Really?

Eric returned a sour look of his own, glancing subtly to Deirdre. You shouldn’t pester her by stretching the tension so long, his eyes communicated back at his younger brother.

“Alright, everyone,” Benedict ‘the demon’ said as he rose up from the grave. “Playtime is over.”

“Come on Princess.” Eric spread his arms wide so Deirdre could jump into them, when Corwin proceeded to pick her up himself. “You can barely hold her weight, let alone all the way to her chambers. Let me take her.”

“I’m… fine.” Corwin huffed, clearly struggling to hold Deirdre up. 

“Look, I’m older and stronger than you, and for her safety-” Eric began to pray Deirdre from Corwin’s hands, when the younger prince would have none of it and walked off. “Corwin, don’t be so stubborn, just give her to me before she gets hurt!” Eric snapped at him as he pulled Corwin towards him by the shoulder. He normally wasn’t the one to snap at others - but when it came to Deirdre’s safety…

“I’ll take her.” Benedict sternly said before the two bickering brothers could actually drop their younger sister in their dispute. The two immediately shut up and Corwin handed his baby sister towards Benedict.

“Bendict.” With a tired smile, Deirdre reached out with her hands towards the eldest brother as she ‘flew’ towards him.

“Now, you two go fresh yourself up before dinner.” 

Corwin nodded and sped off, not even realizing that Eric wasn’t following him. 

“I gave you both permission to leave, Eric. Unless you are questioning my strength like you did Corwin’s?” Benedict replied as the two returned at a much slower pace.

No, sir, not at all.” Eric took a deep breath, so his nervosity wouldn’t be heard through his voice. “I wish to be taught how to duel.” 

There was no reaction from Benedict.

“From you.” Eric added as the silence lingered on. Still there was neither a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ from Benedict, so Eric became a little bolder. “I am, to my belief, at the proper age to learn. And with my position here at court...I want to prove myself to dad I am not someone he needs to be ashamed for, that I too can have a role here in Amber.”

“Dad isn’t ashamed of you, he simply doesn’t care.” Benedict flatly said. “No matter what you do, you will always be a bastard son in Dad’s eyes. You will never do better than any of us.”

Eric’s mouth became thin. “I still want to be trained by you.”

A long pause occured and they were nearly at the palace, when Benedict said, “We begin at 7 o’clock sharp. Do not be late.”

Eric swallowed and nodded, before deciding it wasn’t comfirmation enough and said, “I’ll be there.”

  
  


-()-

“What do you mean, you can’t come with us?!” 

“Benedict will teach me on how to wield a sword. I can not afford not to go.” Eric said as he walked passed Corwin and Deirdre. 

“Benedict is going to teach you?” Corwin echoed incredulously as Eric began to distance himself.

“Why are you questioning my words in such a manner?” Irritated by his continuous questioning, Eric turned around upon the stairs at his younger brother. “Well?”

“It is just, I don’t see the point of you even going.” Corwin haughtily replied as he walked towards his brother, stopping one stair above Eric. “You aren’t a legitimized son of our father”

Eric swallowed heavily at his brother’s words. “I fail to see what my _legitimacy_ to the throne has anything to do with wielding a sword!” Eric growled and once again, the older brother turned towards the training room.

"What's legiti- legitmiezed?" Deirdre struggled to pronounce the word, causing the two brothers to turn their heads towards her.

"It means, he's never going to be our full brother." Corwin replied as if he knew everything there was in the world. 

"But we share the same mother and father." Deirdre frowned at the weird explanation. "So, he _is_ our brother."

Eric felt himself moved by her words and opened his mouth to retort when Corwin beat him to it.

"Yes, we do." Corwin's voice became more irritated now at her lack of comprehension. "But Eric was born before father and mother got wed, which means _I_ am going to be king as the eldest heir!"

"But the eldest is Bendict." Deirdre saw her older brother grumble in annoyance, before he stormed off. "I don't get it." The girl asked Eric for an explanation.

“There is no need to. Not yet. You go after our brother, Princess.” Eric leaned ever and gave Deirdre a kiss on the forehead. “And it is Ben-e-dict,” The older brother corrected her, “Not Bendict.”

“Ben-e-diect”

“Almost” Eric’s booming laughter echoed in the hallway as he ushered Deirdre in Corwin’s direction. “Now go and find Corwin.” Eric waved at his sister, before spurting up the stairs towards the training room. Panting and sweating, the black-haired prince stumbled inside, to see Benedict waiting still as a statue. “I-I was on my way to- but- I-uhm- sidetracked by-” Eric slurred. 

“You are late.” Benedict said. “I have no need of your excuses.”

“Yes… sir.” Eric gasped as he made himself somewhat presentable. 

Benedict didn’t say another word and merely threw a unsheathed sword to Eric, who in his surprise let it slide off his hand. A hiss escaped the younger brother when he noted the blade cutting through his hand. “What do I-” 

CLING!

Eric’s heart was hammering out of his chest when Benedict’s sword came towards him. It was on instinct that he blocked, but also turned his eyes away from the danger. The next second, Eric felt his blade knocked out of his hand and Benedict’s sword pricking in his throat. 

“Pick up.”

Eric stumbled towards his sword and tried to mimic Benedict’s stance. Unfortunately though, his arm wasn’t yet that strong and it trembled to keep the blade still. 

Benedict never let him know when he would attack. That was perhaps the worst thing of all - not knowing. By the end of the hour, Eric was aching and trembling all over his body with small bloody cuts as a mocking reminder how poorly he did today. 

“Same time and place tomorrow.” Benedict said, neither in a fussing or mocking tone. 

“Yes, sir.” Eric brought out and when Benedict left, Eric allowed himself to smile. The boy didn’t even go downstairs to dinner, but went straight to a blissfull sleep on his bed.


	2. Only the best

“Cowwin?” Deirdre called out as she ran in the maze of bushes. “Cowwin, where are you?”

“I’m here, Deirdre.” came Corwin’s muffled answer.

“I can’t see you.” Deirdre frowned as she looked around and behind her. The bushes were huge to her, and the sun setting lower didn’t help to make them more inviting. “Cowwin?” Deirdre gasped and swirled around when a twig got cracked, followed by rustling. “Cowwin, its not funny!” Deirdre yelled as she stumped with her foot on the ground. The only response was a failed attempt of Corwin to muffle his laughter. “Fine, then I’ll go back to Eric and Benediect.” Deirdre began to stomp her way out of the bushes, when the cracking twigs and rustling became much more noisy.

“Deirdre, wait!”

The younger sister kept walking on, with her hands clenched into fists.

“Deirdre, I didn’t mean it that way.” Corwin’s voice advanced to Deirdre and eventually his face came into view. The prince’s bare skin and clothing was painted in mud, his hair was a like a bird’s nest, complete with twigs and leaves. “Deirdre…” Corwin squatted so he was on her eye-level and held her still by putting his hands on her shoulders. “I owe you an apology, alright?”

Deirdre shifted with her shoes through the peddles. “I didn’t like to be alone in there.” The sister replied as she sniffed her nose.

“Well, you don’t have to go in there by yourself any longer.” Corwin hushed her as he rubbed her arms. “I won’t run off like that again….You want to play with the ball? You like that game.”

Deirdre looked behind her, to see the shadows grow even longer and darker in the garden and quickly shook her head. “No, I want to go inside.” Deirdre felt Corwin starting to pick her up and pushed against his chest. “Hands.” Deirdre once again shook her head, causing her curls to fly over her face.

Corwin’s mouth went downwards in disappointment but obliged to her wish, put her back on the grass and intertwined their hands together. It caused the two to go at Deirdre’s slow pace and Corwin’s patience was growing thinner by the minute. At this pace, they’ll never be in time for dinner.

“Could you walk somewhat faster?” Corwin asked as he tugged at Deirdre’s arm a bit. “You know dad doesn’t like it if we arrive late.”

“Oh. So that is why Eric wanted you.” Deirdre began to understand.

“Huh?” Corwin turned his head sharply to his baby sister. “What did Eric want with me?”

“Eric said to run and search for you.” Deirdre answered oblivious to Corwin’s rising ire.

“Off course he did. He much rather dumps us and leaves with Benedict-” Corwin began to grumble.

“Eric and Benediect are leaving?!” The baby sister began to tremble and her eyes swelled with tears.

“No, no, they aren’t truly leaving, they-” Corwin began to soothe Deirdre, when an idea began to pop in his head. “Eric and Benedict are leaving us to play by ourselves and do grown up stuff instead, like reading a book and drinking tea,” Corwin explained, knowing full well his sister despised those activities. As suspected, Deirdre’s nose twitched in disgust.

“That is so boring!” The sister stuck her tongue out and Corwin laughed.

“I think so too.” With a smile, Corwin let the conversation go quiet so his sister could process everything.

“Cowwin?”

“Yeah?”

“You are not going to leave and do this grown up stuff too, are you?” Deirdre quietly asked.

“Nah,” Corwin waved her concerns away, “You are much better company.”

Deirdre’s eyes lit up and the sister clasped her arms around Corwin’s waist. “Really? We’ll stay together forever and ever?!”

“Yes, forever.” Corwin grinned as he stroked her hair.

“I love you, Cowwin.”

“I love you too, Deirdre.” Corwin dared to pick her up again, and this time, Deirdre didn’t refuse him.

-()-

To Deirdre, Corwin became her entire world. They would do anything together - eating, horse riding… yes, they even sneaked out of their respective rooms to sleep in the same bed whenever Deirdre had a nightmare, or whenever she actually wanted. While it was allowed at first by the handmaidens, as the months and years lengthened, it was frowned upon it more and more.

Deirdre and Corwin didn’t care for their opinion. They were boring, they were just dumb and besides - who could ever tell them what they could or could not do?!

As for Corwin’s older brothers, Deirdre sporadically saw them at breakfast, dinner, or in the library going through books. And while Corwin so often reminded her it was “adult stuff”, Deirdre found herself interested in the little pions that the two moved around. “What’s that?”

“It is a game called Chess.” Benedict replied to her before turning his head back to the board and stroking his chin.

Eric merely grunted at this. “Seriously, Ben. Stop pretending as if you are actually stuck on your next move.”

“I merely wanted to give you more time to think on yours.” Benedict shrugged his shoulders as he first moved the tower and then went to turn the hourglass.

Eric huffed at his response. “You know what, I’m starving.” The boy sighed in desperation, moved his bisshop to take Benedict’s tower, and left the King open for Benedict to checkmate it. As Eric’s King fell down, the boy reached for his plate and began to wolf everything in his mouth.

Benedict was much slower in devouring his food. “You were much more observant for possible moves.” The older brother commented between small bites.

Eric merely nodded - not just because his mouth was full, but because ‘thank you’s’ were considered weak, dependent on another’s praise.

“Can I play?”

Both brothers turned their heads to Deirdre, who examined the fallen black king and the white tower in her hand. “It is not a simple game, princess.” Eric replied as he wiped his mouth.

“Then explain.”

Eric let out a chuckle, beckoned his sister to sit on his lap and proceeded to explain the rules. He was just about tell the moves that the King could make, when Corwin’s voice called.

“Deirdre, you want to climb the castle wal-” Corwin’s question died when he saw his sister was not alone. “Are you coming?”

Eric saw hesitation flourish on her face, and quickly spoke, “You do what you want, princess. It is your choice.”

“I didn’t ask _you_.” Corwin bit at his brother.

“And I wasn’t _addressing_ you.” Eric snapped back before putting both Deirdre and himself up their feet. Being at what Amberites would estimate a 16 year old, the boy was shooting up in height and towering above Corwin. “Deirdre isn’t your dog to come whenever you call. Deirdre?” Eric quietly asked to his sister, who looked uncomfortably between the two. “What do you want to do?”

Deirdre shuffled with her feet and bit her lip at the question. “I am going with Corwin.”

“Alright. Have fun.” Eric replied as he ruffled Deirdre’s hair as she passed by him.

“Come on, come on!” Corwin grinned as he pulled his sister away from the library and towards their favorite climbing spot.

“You know, it's odd that the Queen can make so many moves in her ‘kingdom’.” Deirdre noted from Eric’s explanation. “She can go in all directions and chose how many steps she can make, while the King can only make one step. That’s pretty powerful, don’t you think?”

“Powerful yes. But in the end the Queen will always be sacrificed for the King.”

“That’s pretty horrid.”

“That is how it is.” Corwin shrugged, and Deirdre found herself uneasy at his words.

“But if a Queen can be that powerful, why doesn’t she rule the kingdom instead of the king?”

Corwin let out a laugh. “Deirdre, women aren’t meant to rule.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because what?” Deirdre pressed an answer.

“That is how it is.” Corwin shrugged, hoping she would finally be satisfied.

And Deirdre took her brother’s words for granted, because he was always there for her, he loved her, and he would never lie.

-()-

And that was indeed how it was. While she was scolded for her messy clothes, none spoke in such a tone to her brother. While she was told to sit still, Corwin could yell and slide from the stairs. Deirdre was to be frank jealous of him and as the months went on, even frustrated at the increasing divide of treatment. Corwin had said they were equals!

Deirdre kicked a stone with her shoe and watched it fly away. She shouldn’t think that way, the girl thought to herself as guilt began to swell. Corwin had learned her so much, she should be grateful… A gasp escaped Deirdre’s mouth when an arrow whizzed by her head, followed by a terrified scream.

“Oh no, no, no… my lady, my deepest apologies, I-I didn’t mean to-”

Deirdre blinked at the recruit, who was basically petting and searching her body for any wound whatsoever. “It is alright. No harm done.” And Deirdre opened her arms wide to show to him that indeed no wounds had been made.

The man let out a sigh of relief. “Praise the Unicorn for your mercy, my lady. Oh, if Oberon found out I nearly killed his daughter, he’d have me-” The recruit’s throat slammed shut at the imagined horrors.

“I have done something good to you, now I can surely demand something in return.”

“Anything you wish, my lady. Anything.”

Deirdre pointed at the arrow and the recruit frowned in confusion at her gesture. “I want to learn to use that.”

“Use?” The recruit echoed to make sure he understood clearly. “My lady, I am afraid your father wouldn’t approve if I taught you -”

“He most certainly wouldn’t approve you nearly killed his defenseless daughter.” Deirdre interrupted.

“A-alright. But, then you will have to hide your long hair, my lady, better yet… cut your hair short like a boy.”

“Alright. Cut it off.”

The recruit did as the princess commanded and Deirdre felt at her short coupe. It felt awkward and strange… yet also liberating. “I never caught your name…”

“Rein, my lady. My name is Rein.” The recruit answered as his eyes darted nervously around, thinking of a way to oblige to Deirdre’s wish while also not risking his own neck. “Can you meet me after training? Many recruits will immediately leave to have their meals and the squires told to pick the fallen swords and arrows up for them to clean. If you put on a shirt and pants, and pretend to clean up… It might work.”

Deirdre nodded, noticing the nervosity of the man. He was the only help she had and he was doing her a huge favor. Even though they were expendable according to father, the little help she managed to gain was not.

-()-

“Alright. You’ve been defending yourself for quite a while. Now let’s work on your offense.” Benedict said, causing Eric to startle and cough from the water that got in his lungs.

“I have to _attack_ you?” Eric stammered as he wiped his mouth clean.

“People fight to kill.” Benedict replied nonchalantly.

“Off course, but what if.. what if I hurt you?” Eric felt himself redden after blurting out the thought. Here he was, concerned about his brother, who was hailed to be the very best swordsman in all of Shadow.

Benedict’s mouth twitched upwards. “Then, I too have learned something today. Now attack.”

Eric swallowed and swung his sword - only for Benedict’s to make a small cut against his stomach. It wasn’t too deep as to actually pierce his organs, but it stung immensely. The message was clear. He would have been dead had it been real.

“Don’t hold your sword so high.”

Eric nodded and tried again, with Benedict’s sword now meeting his own. The teen pushed the sword away and used the momentum of his forward step to try and pierce Benedict in the stomach - only for his hand to be pulled forward and the tip of benedict’s sword pressed at his forehead.

“Don’t lunge. Think about your balance.”

And so it went on for what had now become a great many hours instead of just one at the very beginning of his training. The one on one duels became longer with more complex movements, and the nearest surroundings were taught to one’s advantage. Always when Eric thought he had seen it all, Benedict come with something else to be taught. “One more.” Eric demanded when Benedict’s sword pricked his shoulder.

“I say when there is more.” Benedict chided the younger brother as he turned his back to him. After only three steps, the warrior could hear Eric advance and smiled against his will. Without turning around, Benedict blocked each attack that Eric threw at him. “Huh.” The man looked at his arm, when he felt the tiniest touch of steel on it. “Not bad.”

“Again.” Eric began to glow from the little victory he had gained, and the adrenaline shot through his veins. He could do better, he could -

“Its _enough_ ”

Eric swallowed and resisted the urge to press on. The last time he had gone against Benedict’s refusal, he had been so beaten up by Benedict’s training, he became bedridden for a week.

“Same time…,” Benedict began,

“Same place tomorrow,” Eric finished his daily finishing words. The two parted ways from the training room and while bathing was on his mind, his stomach disagreed far more. Instead of going to his chambers, the prince went downstairs to see if there was anything left to snack on. As he passed past the guest rooms, Eric paused when he heard muffled voices from… the guard’s training room? As he sneaked forward, the prince began to recognize one very familiar female voice.

 _Sis, what are you doing here so late, flirting with the castle guards?_ A little smile began to appear on Eric’s face, only for the prince to freeze when he heard the very distinct sound of an arrow being released. What was going o- Eric stormed forward and up the bridge that the trainers used to have a major overview of their recruits and to break up possible fights. As his eyes darted around, Eric found his sister, clad like a boy and in black to make her blend in the shadows.

And she was shooting arrows at the straw man like it was nothing. If father saw this, he would be beyond livid. What was worse, with him discovering Deirdre’s secret, he was complicit too. If he wanted to save his own skin, he should tell father. Not only that, maybe it would cause him to be in his good books.

He _should_ tell.

Eric’s feet refused to budge and the prince kept watching his sister. He hadn’t seen her smile like this in a long while. Could he really rob her of this? She too, was held back by how she was born.

 _Whiiizzzzz!_ The arrow was shot straight in the bullseye, and Eric’s clapping could be heard, causing both the recruit and Deirdre to be scared out of their wits and look at the prince on the overarching bridge.

“If I were more like father, this man would not be alive right now.” Eric said as he descended from the stairs towards Deirdre.

“He is in debt to me.”

“Is he now? What for?” Eric asked as he spared a glance to a pale-looking Rein.

“He nearly shot my head off with a lost arrow.” Deirdre replied as if it had been nothing.

“And you are asking _him_ to teach you how to fight?” Eric tsked at her.

“No one else would voluntarily teach me. Either way, father would have his head if I told him what had transpired, or if we were caught later. All means justify the ends, father has taught us.”

“You.” Eric called the recruit without even sparing a look. “You are relieved of your servitude to her. At first dawn, you resign your position here.”

“Y-yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.”

  
“Do not thank me yet. For your sake, you pray to the Unicorn the King never finds out.”

“Just what are you-” Deirdre angrily began, as Rein hastily bowed and scurried out of sight.

“A princess deserves only the best. Aside from Benedict, I am.” Eric calmly replied.

“You will teach me?” When Eric nodded, Deirdre narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What’s the catch? There is always one.”

“You will reduce your time spend with Corwin. I have no need of students who are only half-committed to their studies.” When Deirdre nodded, Eric continued, “Same time and place tomorrow.”

-()-

Secrets create a far more powerful bond than lies. And similar experiences forge an even tighter connection. The secret lessons expanded themselves to conversations, about the way father would treat them for who they were. Never did Eric put himself on a pedestal, or pretend to be better knowing than her, and Deirdre felt for the first time at ease. Eric was the brother that Corwin should have been.

As a logical consequence, Corwin’s and Deirdre’s relationship became stretched, with Corwin oblivious to the reason behind it. Eric shouldn’t take pleasure in the frustration of his younger brother, but the young man couldn’t help it. Now he would experience that not everything was revolving around him and make him more tougher.

Unfortunately that was not the case. One day, Corwin burst in the training room where Benedict and Eric were fencing and demanded to be taught how to duel. Benedict didn’t say a word and threw a sword at Corwin’s feet. After doing so, the warrior seated himself and poured himself some tea. “Teach him.”

Lesson number one: one never disobeys Benedict.  
Lesson number two: everything Benedict threw at you, was a test.

Eric immediately knew Benedicts intentions. He wasn’t daft. He had noted the rising tension between them, and wanted to see how well the both of them could keep their emotions in check. It is easy to fight in a decorated room, with an opponent who is never actually out to hurt you and without harsh feelings. “Alright. Corwin, if you could show me your sword hand?” The prince looked at the way his brother held his sword. “It is much too tight.” Eric began to change Corwin’s fingertips so they stood alright. “Now, you try to strike me. before we START-” Eric raised his voice when Corwin already raced towards him like a bull towards a red flag. “When I say ‘stop’, you will stop. Understood?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Alri-” Before he could even finish his sentence, Corwin yelled with a raised sword. Too simple and a beginners’ fault. Without difficulty, Eric parried his sword with his own and pricked Corwin on the shoulder. “Don’t hold your sword so wide. And don’t use both of your hands, it will limit your movement.” Eric said as the two circled around one another.

Again their swords clashed and again Corwin felt Eric’s sword pricking his skin. “Why does Deirdre fancy your company over mine?” When Eric didn’t reply, Corwin continued on in a much sharper tone, “ _Answer me!_ ”

“You are here to train, not to get answers,” Eric replied as he took a few steps back so Corwin could get a breather.

“All of the sudden, she flutters around you.” Corwin relentlessly went on.

“Alright, stop.” Eric demanded of his brother. The man lowered his sword and turned his back, to indicate the session was done.

“Just answer the question damnit.” Corwin shouted, and he raced towards his brother with sword in hand.

It had been a reflex, honed by years and years of unexpected attacks by Benedict. In that moment, it wasn’t his brother running towards him anymore. Eric swirled around, evaded the blade like a dancer and his own weapon pierced itself in his brother’s thigh.

Corwin’s scream tore at Eric’s ears and the prince hastily pulled his sword out, dropping it at the floor the moment it was free from Corwin’s body. “Corwin, I-” The prince began to apologize, before shutting his mouth. _For what, really? He was the one who hadn’t kept to the rules._ Eric began to reach out to press Corwin’s wound, when his brother actively held him at bay.

“Just stay the bloody hell away from me!”

Benedict arrived next to Corwin and while Corwin tried to keep Ben away like he had Eric, Benedict tolerated no such thing and swatted his hands away like it were flies. The moment the warrior began to press on the wound, Corwin began to shriek. “Stop squirming like a girl.” The warrior barked at the youngest brother. “Eric, medical kit.”

-()-

“How is Corwin?”

“A couple of days, according to the doctor, before his bandage can be taken off.”

Deirdre let out a long breath. “Good.” The conversation turned quiet again, with only their ringing swords going back and forth. “You think we should tell Ben, about this?”

Eric bit his lip. “I don’t know, Deirdre. Benedict may be fond of you, he is never going to disobey father’s wishes. Not after what happened to Osric and Finndo.”

Deirdre let out a disappointed grunt. “Yes, but-”

“Can we please not just talk about it now?” Eric demanded, “Let us just fence.”

“Yes sir.” Deirdre laughed at Eric’s scowl, knowing full well he hated being called that way, and the two began to earnestly train. As the training progressed, the tension of the day wore off and Eric let himself slide in that familiar battle daze. “First one to get pricked-” Eric asked and Deirdre nodded in excitement. The prince laughed and the duel began to take a more urgent and rapid pace. “If you think you can take me with speed-” Eric replied as Deirdre began a fast series of attacks. The prince took out his knife, now dueling with both his sword in his left and his knife in the other, making Deirdre rethinking her strategy.

When Eric’s sword met her own, Deirdre grabbed Eric’s knife before it could touch her abdomen and twisted his arm so Eric would be forced to drop it.

He did, with tears in his eyes.

“Yield.” Deirdre’s sword went for another attack, when Eric’s foot kicked against her knee. Her attack didn’t have that much force behind it anymore, nor did her arm, and Eric clashed the sword away with his own. Before he could swing for her neck, his own knife was used against him and shot right past his head. “That was just foolish to throw a-” Eric began, when Deirdre took up an battle axe.

Shit. Deirdre did not hold back from using that thing.

“You promise you will keep some of the furniture standing? I am running out of excuses to make at the captain of the guards.”

“I’ll try.” Deirdre began to advance at Eric, who evaded her first attack and blocked her second with his bare hand, and moved his sword to point it at Deirdre’s neck… when Deirdre caught his own hand by the wrist and the two struggled to assert dominance.

“Yield.” Eric demanded as he used his superior strength to push her in submission. Almost… almost… The prince gasped when Deirdre’s knee kicked him between the legs and the princess made use of the opportunity to butt her heads with her brother. The next moment, Eric lay on the ground with Deirdre pinned atop of him. “No fair.” Eric gasped as their fight continued on the ground, with the two rolling and searching for their knives. One such weapon lay close within their reach and the two both tried to grab it as well as prevent the other from taking it.

“Yes!” Deirdre screamed as she managed to grab the knife and pointed it at Eric’s throat. Confusion crossed her face when she noted there had been no resistance at all. “Eric, what is-” Deirdre slowly followed his gaze, to see her father standing in the doorway.

“Well since you seem to have so much spare time on your hands to teach her, I think you are fit to walk the Pattern this evening.” Oberon icily commented.

-()-

“-ember, don’t stray from the path and don’t stop moving.” Deirdre could hear Dworkin explain to Eric as they approached.

“Uhuh. Alright.” Eric nodded at the explanation and began to turn towards the Pattern, when Benedict stopped his advancement by pushing him on the chest.

“You got some supporters for your first Pattern-walk.” Benedict explained to the confused man, who followed Benedict’s gaze towards his brother and sister.

“Deirdre!” Eric began to grin when he saw his sister, sped towards her and and picked his sister up in a hug so her feet were dangling from the ground. “You were allowed to come?”

“Father thought it… educational for us to see. Even if it weren’t an order, I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” Deirdre returned a guilty smile as Eric put her back on solid ground.

“And see how we can break your record when we have to walk it ourselves.” Corwin added coolly.

Eric merely returned a smile at his brother, already expecting such a answer and not in the mood to talk that much from the stress. For a moment, his hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out to his younger brother, before he let his hand slump awkwardly back to the side when Corwin didn’t budge a muscle.

Sharply Eric strode towards the beginning of the path, stopping just before the blue line. For a moment, Eric stood still, collecting his breath, before stepping with his foot upon the Pattern.

Deirdre and Corwin watched their brother proceed through the blue fire. It seemed easy, had Deirdre not seen Eric’s damp shirt and hair sticking to his skin. To see him struggling and not being able to help him in any way, caused Deirdre’s anxiety to rise through the roof. _Come on, Eric._ Deirdre saw him go through the second veil, when Eric suddenly falter.

Deirdre let out a shuddering gasp when she saw him come to a complete stand still, and dug her nails in Corwin’s arm.

The silent spell was broken by Benedict. “Don’t stop Eric,” The man barked as if he were yelling at one of his soldiers. “Keep your feet moving!”

“Come on, Eric, get moving!” Deirdre now found her voice and screamed along.

Eric still didn’t move from his spot.

“Eric, get the fuck up!” Deirdre began to walk forward, when Corwin’s hand stopped her by grabbing her arm. “What are you-”

“What do you think you could possibly _do_ , hm? Walk the Pattern yourself? You would die before you reach him!”

When Deirdre pulled herself free, Corwin began to take a more forceful attempt to keep his sister in place and used his body to slam her against the stone cold ground. “Stay down!” Corwin curled his hand into a fist, so he could beat his sister unconscious, as much as he hated it. His hesitation costed him the upperhand. Deirdre wrestled herself somewhat out of Corwin’s grip and offered him a backhand. Stumbling, the girl began to go towards the blue line when another pair of hands closed around her. Beyond furious, Deirdre began to claw and bit at Benedict’s arms, but unfortunately the warrior had faced worse wounds than hers.

“ _Ben!_ ” Realizing Corwin would not move from his spot, Deirdre turned her hope to the quiet, older brother. “You go after him, you’ve already walked it - you can do it again!” Deirdre pleaded with tears in her eyes.

Benedict swallowed, glancing past Deirdre towards Eric upon the Pattern and slightly, ever so slightly, his arms loosened -

“You stay where you are!” Oberon’s voice rang like a whip on their skin, having just arrived on the scene by Dworkin’s trump. Benedict and Corwin froze on the spot, not daring to look Oberon in the eye.

The young however, were oblivious to fear. Deirdre kept pushing against Benedict’s grip and scolded at her father’s face.

“He is dying up there because of you.” Oberon went on as he stared his daughter down.

“He’s dying on your orders,” Deirdre hissed and Oberon’s hand flew across her cheek, two, three times.

“Do not twist my words, you insolent girl!” Oberon roared as he forced Deirdre’s face to look at her struggling brother on the Pattern. “Your sole purpose in your life to be wed and produce heirs like your mother did - it is time you get that through your skull instead of playing pretend with your bastard brother that you can be equals to my other sons. Get her out of my sight!” Oberon ordered Benedict before turning on his heel. “Corwin!”

The boy jumped out of his skin when he heard his name. “Y-yes, father?”

“ _Come._ ”

  
Corwin walked past Benedict, who already was concentrating on his own Trumps, and stopped just behind his father. Oberon didn’t speak another word, grabbed the boy by the shoulder and vanished with him in a rainbow shimmer. Dworkin and Benedict followed immdiately after.

Which left Eric, all alone upon the Pattern that now began to engulf and eat at his clothing and skin. Tears from both the emotional and physical pain began drip down Eric's cheeks as the fire began to whisk around him, showing him images of Corwin and Oberon. A true son of their father… perhaps, it was indeed better to let himself be consumed.

_“Father, there is something you have to know.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“About Deirdre and Eric.”_

And Eric watched the past unfold, seeing Corwin tell father what he had not: Deirdre being taught how to duel. And he saw father’s rage, and Corwin’s indifference to what he had caused. Eric shut his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

Ben was right. He would never do better than Corwin in father’s eyes. No, he simply would be _better_ than Corwin, and he would do it for _himself_. That was enough. Eric sucked in a deep breath and so slowly that it seemed to be millenia, the prince managed to get up.

 _“I don’t see the point of you going, with you being illegimate.”_ Corwin’s sneer whispered in Eric’s ear. “ _You’ll always be a bastard.”_

Eric snorted at the figure and strode through the vision. _Bastard or not, did he not have the same strength as his father? Did he not have his blood in his veins?_ The insults washed over him and they glided of his mind like the pattern fire on his skin. The harsher the sneers became, the more it strengthened Eric to push on to a point where he was _begging_ for it.

_Bastard, bastard, bastard…_

Yes, that was him. Despite the gruelling final veil, Eric kept smiling and the mantra kept going in his head.

_Bastard, bastard, bastard, ba-!_

The blue fire vanished, as well as the pressure and Eric sunk like a rag doll on the ground on his hands and knees. His body was shaking and oh how he would love to sleep on this cool ground…

 _Not yet,_ Eric spoke to himself as he forced his feet to stand. _Not yet._ The prince closed his eyes, to envision the place where he wanted to go and vanished from the Pattern Chamber.

-()-

“Here.” Benedict pushed a cup of hot chocolate in Deirdre’s trembling hands. “Drink up.” The man instructed as he moved Deirdre’s hair away to check for any wounds.

“I’m fine.” Deirdre mumbled.

“I recognized Eric’s style, below. He has been training you.” Benedict stated as a mere fact.

“Yes” Deirdre’s lip began to tremble. “And now he’s dead because of me.”

Benedict opened his mouth to retort, when approaching footsteps announced Corwin’s approach. “Hi.” The boy meekly said as he slowly approached his siblings. “I owe you an apology, Deirdre. But you have to understand I had to stop you from going on that Pattern and to die alongside Eric!”

“No one was stopping _you_ from rescuing your brother.” Benedict casually remarked, which caused Corwin to redden.

“Yes, well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Eric is probably already charcoal by this point.” Corwin scurried away when Deirdre jumped from her seat, ready to jam the spoon through his throat.

“Deirdre.” Benedict stopped Corwin’s sister by putting his hand in front of her. “He is still your brother.” The man quietly continued.

Deirdre swallowed at his words, let the spoon drop from her hand and tiredly went back to drink from her cup.

“I’d love to have one myself. The Pattern is freezing to lie on.” A voice suddenly spoke up.

“ERIC!” Deirdre dropped the cup and swirled around to see her brother leaning against the doorway, dressed in red and black.

“Hello Princess.” Eric spread his arms open, and Deirdre flung herself at him, causing the prince to stumble backwards from her greeting. 

“I thought you dead,” Deirdre cried in his vest.

“We all thought you were.” Benedict spoke as he came forward to shake him the hand.

Eric untangled an arm from Deirdre’s hug and shook Ben’s hand. “Me as well,” Eric gave a big grin to his older brother, before the two burst into laughing and embraced each other, sandwiching Deirdre in the process.

“Gongratulations.”

Eric glanced to the side to see Corwin standing somewhat apart. “Your words are much appreciated.” The prince replied as he untangled himself from Benedict and Deirdre, before striding to Corwin. “36 minutes and 16 seconds”

“What?”

“You wished to know how long my Patternwalk took. So when will you take yours? I can’t wait to see you obliterate my record.”

Corwin blinked in confusion at the easy smile and confidence that Eric so suddenly possessed, before his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to give an indication on how old they all are when Eric has to take his Patternwalk on Oberon's orders:  
> Deirdre is 13 years.  
> Corwin is 15 years.  
> Eric is 19 years.  
> Benedict is 23.
> 
> When I began to think about Faiella's kids and how they would have been like when they were young, I looked at Corwin's sexist remarks about women in general. Seeing how Oberon doesn't care less who he takes as a wife either, and looking at the way Amber functions (a patriarchal absolute monarchy), I think Deirdre would have it as difficult as Eric, because she is a woman. It only makes sense that a bastard would sympathize with her struggles to shape her own course.
> 
> I really made Corwin a jerk here - because he was, according to his own Chronicles XD I just hope I didn't overdo that side of his. I feel that, since he's so used that things go his way, he would be quite shaken up about Deirdre preferring his older brother. 
> 
> Eric on the other hand, I loved to write him in this chapter. I didn't expect I would enjoy the relationship between Benedict and Eric that much either.


	3. Tir na nogh

Oberon didn’t even comment when Eric entered with his chosen colors the following day. Or about anything that had transpired that evening in the Pattern chamber from that day on. 

He should have known by now, he wouldn’t get off the hook that easy.

They all were sitting for dinner - Oberon at the head of the table, naturally, with Benedict and Deirdre respectively on his right and left. Corwin sat next to their eldest brother, while Eric had taken place next to Deirdre. 

Eric could as well have been seated next to a wild animal, ready to bite. The youngest daughter would show her displeasure quite plainly about Oberon’s prohibition when it came to women and wielding swords, and she would show her learned skills without any shame. Nonchalantly, the girl turned her knife in her hand and speared a piece of meat on it much like the boys would.

“The ambassador of Eregnor reported some strange creatures roaming their forests.” The King suddenly said, “Some sightings are closely to Arden itself.”

All the children peaked their ears at Oberon’s sudden announcement. “They are?” Corwin eagerly leaned forward at the news, when Oberon’s eyes burned into Eric’s skull. 

“See to it that they are out of our Shadows… Eric.” 

Said prince was just chewing on a potato when his father gave the order - he, much like anyone else, had expected Benedict to take care of the threat as usual and had continued on eating. Eric hastily put his fork down and swallowed the last remains down his throat. His eyes flickered to Corwin, who’s eyes were bulging out. Eric would have laughed at the sight, if he didn’t feel like a bucket of ice had been thrown over him.

_He wanted him gone, like his brothers before him._

It was the first thing that came to Eric’s mind, and it wasn’t his alone either. The faint cracking of silver could be heard from Benedict’s trembling hand, and the warrior put the crushed knife on the table. “Another” Benedict demanded to one of the servants. A new one was quickly given and the warrior continued eating as if nothing had transpired, though his eyes solidly stayed glued on his plate.

_No, hold up. Father was merely given him a chance to prove himself. He didn’t want him.. him gone._ “Off course, father.” Eric managed to say and proceeded to wash his throat with some water. “I will leave first thing in the mo-”

“Let me go with him.” Everyone’s eyes turned to Deirdre.

Oberon didn’t reply. 

Unsatisfied with his silence, Deirdre decided to press with uglier words.“Come on, dad, why not hit two birds with one stone, like you hit Osric and Finndo?” Deirdre’s eyes sought Eric who casted his eyes away to Deirdre’s shock.

Eric couldn’t look in his sister’s eyes - he could only hope she would understand, and be allowed to explain himself afterwards. He couldn’t let Deirdre come - not because of her safety, but because he had already defiled Oberon’s orders once when it came to her. He couldn’t afford to do so twice. 

“Father asked him alone, not you.” Corwin now said, with a mixture of anger and fright, at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, Deirdre would be allowed to join and possibly die alongside Eric. _And he would be left all alone..._

Deirdre stiffened and turned her eyes to her brother, who didn’t flinch at her murderous face. “And I am asking him all the same.” The princess hissed, before turning her eyes once more to Oberon. “Father, I have near as much experience with the sword as Eric does. And far more than Corwin-” 

_Why does she keep trying?! Why does she never listen?!_ “Just shut your _mouth_ already.” a red-faced Corwin barked at his failure to pacify his sisters need go to battle.

“And you watch your own tongue.” Eric growled at his brother. “She is your sister, not _your whore_.” The more you forbade Deirdre to do something, the more she was willing to try it. His silent treatment to her request would have worked, had Corwin kept his mouth shut!

“I’m merely reminding her where her place is, as well as yours.” Eric shot up from his chair at Corwin’s words and placed his hands on the table, with Corwin following in the blink of an eye. The fear for their sister had build up to such an extent that the two sought for a way to release it, in any way possible.

Corwin’s green eyes were shining with contempt and his mouth wore an easy, superior smile. _Come on, bastard. Hit me. Hit me and get out of dad’s favor._

Eric’s breathing increased at Corwin’s taunting eyes, and his hands began to curl themselves. His brother hadn’t walked the Pattern as of yet, and the prince was fairly sure if he were to use punch his brother in the stomach, his brother would die. _You can’t hide behind dear daddy forever, brother._

Eating had ceased completely as of now, as all the eyes turned towards the centre of tension in the very room. 

Benedict merely let out a tired sigh as he saw the two brothers at each others throats, and continued eating.

The King himself had just finished his meal and now sipped from a glass of Bourbon, watching the reaction of all his children.

Meanwhile, Deirdre watched back and forth between her two brothers and her hand curled around the knife, when the girl paused. _For whom would she even fight for? What if they would actually go for the kill? Sure, she held more affection towards Eric, but Corwin was her brother as well, despite his annoying know-it-all behavior._ As Deirdre watched, the girl realized she simply _couldn't_ make a choice. _She couldn’t bear to see them fight, to see one possibly die at the hands of another… which was what father wanted,_ Deirdre realized as she met Oberon’s eyes. He forced her to do this, as much as he forced Eric’s and Corwin’s dispute to build up. Because he found it amusing. “I know now my place is at neither of your side!” 

The build up tension snapped. The two brothers simultaneously broke their gazes from each other and stared at their younger sister, who stood up from her chair and hurried outside without excusing herself.

_Her brothers were blind to the manipulations of their father. Or maybe, they silently wished this competition. Anyhow, there would come a time, when talking would not suffice to stop them and she would not merely sit back when that day arrived._

“Deirdre!” Corwin too left without excusing or asking permission to his father, and followed his sister to her chambers.

“I don’t want to talk.” Deirdre snapped without looking behind her shoulder, and increased her pace. 

“Oh, but you want to talk to Eric, is that it?!” 

Deirdre let out a sound of utter frustration at her brother’s accusation and locked herself in her room, closing the door on Corwin. 

Eric watched his siblings leave the dining room, and almost ordered his feet to go after her when he was reminded of Oberon’s presence. “Father, may I please be excused?” The prince slowly requested with a bowed head, even though he already knew the answer. 

“It would be rude to let all this food go to waste.” 

The bastard-prince swallowed as he watched Corwin and Deirdre vanish from his view, “Off course father,” Eric replied as he seated himself once more and began to eat up his plate.

-()-

Benedict slowly appeared in the doorway of the training room, and saw Eric train with the sword upon the dummy. “Poor fella,” The warrior replied when Eric cut it in half, and the younger brother glanced with a heated face towards his mentor. 

“I’m not in the mood for company or to talk, Ben.” Eric snarled as he threw the sword aside and washed his face.

“A troubled mind before battle is like a blunt blade in a fight” Benedict replied as he picked the sword up and began to sharpen it with a whetstone. “Nothing good comes from it.”

“There is… a lot.” Eric growled.

Benedict didn’t reply, and let the silence grow so Eric could scramble his thoughts together in a cohesive manner.

“Do you want Corwin as our king, Ben?” 

Benedict’s hand ceased to sharpen the sword and his eyes met Eric’s. “Asking questions like these, is what ultimately got my brothers killed on the field, Eric.”

“I’m not talking about… that.” Eric gestured with his hand, grimacing both at the reminded tale and the prospect of ever openly defying Oberon. “Would Corwin be a good king, in your eyes? Would he be able to win the love of the people and keep a stern hand over the nobility?”

“Corwin’s still young. His rash behavior will wither in time.” 

“That’s no answer to my question.” 

Benedict stood up, sheathed the sword once more and turned towards Eric. “Cast those questions out of your mind, Eric. You have a battle tomorrow.”

“I KNOW!” Eric bellowed and the heavily panting prince paced around in the chamber, not knowing how to get rid of his nervosity. “I know, Ben,” The prince continued on a less harsher tone,” I know I should be focused, but… Corwin has a way to just- I am _better_ than him!” Eric finally managed to burst out. “And I am just shoved aside like trash, because I was born too early in life, because father was somehow afraid of Cymnea’s whining-” The remaining words died on Eric’s mouth when he saw Benedict’s burning eyes, and his palms turned sweaty.

“You are right to vent your frustration, though not in the right to bear malice to my mother.” The warrior said as he slowly approached his brother, who scurried backwards against the wall. 

Eric felt Benedict’s hand around his collar, and the younger sibling felt himself heaved up, so they looked eye-to eye. “Let me give you one last advice, tonight,” Benedict whispered in Eric’s pale face, “Use your anger intelligently.”

“H-how can I?” Eric whispered back. He couldn’t look away, as much as he wanted from the very eyes of Death, “I feel angry all the time. I can’t… can’t get a grip on it like you can.”

Benedict’s lips curled upwards for a fraction of a second, “I can’t either.” The man casually replied as he put a confused Eric back to his feet. “Dont hold _anything_ back, because they sure as hell won't. Be _ruthless_."

Eric swallowed. “I appreciate your advice, Ben. Truly. I think I’m able to put my worries at rest for tonight.” 

“You are welcome."

"Goodnight, Ben."

Good night, Eric.” Benedict nodded and watched Eric vanish from view. The warrior let out a deep sigh, and returned the fallen sword back in its original place, before heading to bed himself.

-()-

"Deirdre, open the door, before I break it down!" Corwin bellowed while pounding his fist on the door.

"I doubt she'll consider opening the door to a screaming banshee." Benedict casually noted on his way to his chambers, which gained a sour looking face from his younger brother.

_Truly, had it come to this, a prince of Amber begging?_ Corwin grimaced at the thought. "Will you... speak with me?" Corwin tried with a strained friendly voice. "Please?" The prince grumbled incomprehensibly afterwards.

_No answer._

Deirdre’s brother was about to lose his temper again, refrained last minute and gestured with his hands and mouthed towards Benedict, “Now what?"

Not so gently, Benedict pushed Corwin aside before he would actually break down Deirdre’s door and knocked three times. "Deirdre, would you open the door to either of us?" Benedict asked in a casual tone.

"No, thank you." Came Deirdre's muffled answer from behind the door.

"Ah. And when would you like to receive us?"

"How about in a century or so?"

"It is notified." Benedict said, before turning to Corwin. "You got your answer."

"Well, I'm not leaving till she’s going to talk to me." Corwin huffed, not pleased at all by the outcome.

Benedict shrugged and returned to his own chambers, while Corwin seated himself with his back against Deirdre's door.

-()-

Corwin jolted awake from a severe pain in the neck. "Agh.." He had been sleeping in a wrong position, and his back and neck was paying the price for it. "Deirdre?"

_No answer._

"Deirdre, I know you are still quite awake at this hour, so the silent treatment is completely useless." Corwin frowned when he heard... absolutely nothing. Usually, he heard his sister snore. Or... well, move around very lively in her bed. "Are you alright?" Corwin put himself on his feet and knocked on her door. "Deirdre!"

Becoming increasingly more worried, Corwin sought for the little toothpick in his pants and began to work on the key lock. "Deirdre?" The prince slowly went towards her bed, and sought blindly with his hands. Oh no... Corwin tore the blankets away to see a mixture of pillows and clothing make the silhouette of his sleeping sister. "Shit!" The prince glanced to the opened window and peaked over the balcony to see a cord of blankets tied onto it. "Ben! Ben, Deirdre is-"

BLAM! Corwin blinked to adjust to the sudden lack of light, before letting out a plethora of curses. _Idiot!_ "Deirdre, let me out, or I swear on the horn of the Unicorn, I will- You better NOT know!" Corwin yelled as he heard his sister lock the door from the other side.

“I can’t let you out.” 

“Then explain to me,” Corwin now truly began to beg with his sister. “Deirdre, talk to me.” For a moment, the prince began to fear that she had actually already left. 

“I already have.” Deirdre said before footsteps indicated her removal from the door. 

"No, no, NO! Deirdre, COME ON! AGH!" The prince collided his shoulder against the door, and winced at the pain that shot through his arm. "Shit, shit, shit!" Corwin paced around and pulled at his hair. _Wait, the bloody window!_

Corwin yelled from frustration when he noted the cord was too short for him to climb safely towards the floor below. _Alright... those bloody Trumps. Unicorn, please give me strength._ He had only just begun his training with the trumps and he could hold his focus for only a few seconds to get contact. Those would have to make do...

Fiddling with his desk, Corwin sought out Benedict’s and began to concentrate. Slowly, the card came to life - but it was as if seeing Benedict underwater, or in a far away tunnel. “Get me through!" Corwin bit through his teeth as he reached his hand out. 

Benedict’s mind brushed over his most prominent thoughts and Corwin resisted the urge to block his older brother. _Benedict, just let me through, let me through, let me through!_ Corwin couldn’t even utter one word anymore and kept repeating the mantra in his head as the contact began to glitch. _I can’t hold it much longer, Ben, LET ME THROUGH!_ At the last second, Corwin felt a hand clasp his and pull him forward. The world swirled arround in rainbow colors, and Corwin felt Benedict’s hands grasp his shoulders.

"Take it easy, Corwin. The first time is highly disorientat-" Benedict began, when Corwin yanked his arm loose and began to stumble forward. The younger brother had barely put two steps when he slumped on his hands and knees.

"Deirdre...," Corwin brought out, as his body tried to find out what way was up and down. “Deirdre… gone. Believe.. believe she went… to Pattern.”

" _Ah_." Benedict pulled Corwin up on his feet and stormed out of the door, leaving the younger brother to sway back and forth.

"Wait...Ben..." Corwin rasped out as he stumbled out of the library. Taking a moment to gather his feet, the prince looked out of the window, to see Tir na Nogh shining atop Kolvir. An instinctive feeling began to stir in the teen. "BEN! Ben, she's not going to the dungeons, she's... she's... ah _FUCK_!" Corwin bellowed as a splintering headache prevented him from calling Benedict through Trump once more. The prince raced with wobbly legs towards the stables. "You, stable boy!" Corwin barked as he hoisted the barely awake boy up his feet. "Get a horse!"

"You prefer the white one, or the-"

"Any will do." Corwin interrupted, "Leave the saddle!"

"But m'lord, how will you-" The boy began to ask, when Corwin already galloped out of the palace gates. His worst confirmation became true when he saw a horse at the beginning of the climb. Corwin jumped off, without tying his own horse and raced up the remaining stairs of Kolvir. The chill night air aided to clear his mind from the disorientating Trumping, but his balance was still recovering, causing the prince to slip on the stairs and scraping his knees and hands in his haste. "DEIRDRE!" The teen hosted himself up, and saw his sister run across the silvery stairs towards the centre of Tir na Nogh.

Heavily panting, the prince tried to get his breathing under control and leaned forward, with his hands on his knees. As his breathing began to stabilize, Corwin looked up to the silvery stairs and pulled at his hair as he considered his options. _Shit, shit, shit! He didn't have the strength left to call his brothers on Trump_ _and by the time he raced back, Deirdre would already be walking on Tir's Pattern._ Which left only one option. "I'm doing you way too many favors, sis." Corwin grumbled, as he took off his cape and let it drop on the ground. The prince jumped a few times up and down, to get his adrenaline going and the night chill out of his skin. "Alright, okay." Corwin wheezed, "Okay." Taking another deep breath, the teen jumped upon the silvery stairs to follow his sister.

-()-

Deirdre knew, that her brothers would rush towards the Pattern below Amber itself if they realized she was out of bed and hopefully fail to see she went the more dangerous, less travelled route. 

It seemed Corwin knew her a little too well. Or maybe, it was solidly to impress father and to outdo Eric and not out of concern for her own well being. Deirdre slowed down as she reached the silvery image of the Pattern, momentarily hesitating on walking it. _What if Corwin went through with it this very night as well? She had calculated how long the Patternwalk could take for her in Tir na Nogh (which already was VERY tightly calculated) and hadn’t taken into account a second Patternwalker in her calculation. Maybe she must postpone, for Corwin’s sake…_

But then she wouldn’t get another chance, quite possibly never. 

“DEIRDRE!” Corwin’s voice screamed across Tir na Nogh, and from pure habit, the girl stopped in her tracks.

_No! No, she would not stop. Not now, not for Corwin, for Eric or anyone!_ Deirdre gritted her teeth and sprang upon the silvery Pattern.

It was almost as Eric described it to be - it had the texture and and stung like fire, but it was freezing cold upon her skin. Yet there also was an enormous amount of movement that Eric hadn’t mentioned - the very Pattern seemed to sway back and forth like a cloud in the wind, and each step had to be carefully put down. Along with the almost timeless passing in Tir, Deirdre could understand why even dad was not keen on walking Tir’s Pattern. Onwards, now…

_“You won’t ever see the dawn again, like myself.”_ Deirdre’s eyes snapped to her right when she heard Corwin’s whisper, and gasped in horror when she saw Corwin, clad in rags and ravens sitting on each of his shoulder. 

“Corwin-” Deirdre began to reach out, when the ravens bit at her hand before flying towards Corwin’s face. Her brother didn’t even scream when the ravens picked out his eyes and began to devour them.

_“I overreached and this is my price to pay. You will get you due as well.”_

“Begone, you both! Leave my brother alone!” Deirdre screamed as she swatted at the laughing ravens. The girl screamed once again, when she felt their claws upon her skin and pick at her hands and shoulders.

_“Lonely girl, powerless girl, why do you even try?! the ink is already dry!”_

“No, NO! I refuse to believe!” Deirdre screamed, “You are nothing but ghosts, nothing but fears of the mind! Leave my brother alone!” And Deirdre reached again, and once more the ravens bit and clawed at her arms. Instead of withdrawing her arms, Deirdre bit through the pain and grasped the right hand of her blind brother. “Come with me, Corwin. I’ll keep you safe.” Deirdre hushed as she began to walk forward with Corwin at her side.

“You cannot save us and yourself both, princess.”

_No… no, not him._ But Deirdre couldn’t turn a blind eye and looked anyway to her other full brother. “Eric…” Wolves were circling around him, biting his inner organs out of his chest. His still pumping heart was held around his neck by a chain, and it seemed such a burden that the prince hunched forward. “Get lost, all of you!” 

“Leave me, Deirdre. Let me g-” Eric couldn’t finish his sentence, as one wolf began to bite and pull at his chain, causing the prince to hunch even further.

“That is not for you to decide!” Deirdre snapped as she reached out with her free hand. 

_“sad girl, tragic girl, why go your own?! The future is set in stone!”_ The wolves bit and clawed at her, as much as the ravens had before when she reached out for her brother. 

“I got you, Eric. I got you.” Deirdre managed to take Eric’s hand and began to pull him to her left side.

The ravens cried, the wolves howled and the increasing weight of her brothers made her knees wobble as Deirdre pulled them along to the final veil. 

_“Who said you could take them with you on your Patternwalk, daughter? Do you think yourself more than your King that you can make your own rules?”_ The Pattern shifted like an earthquake when Oberon appeared, and Deirdre fought to keep herself upright on the silvery line. _“That is NOT the way!_ ”

“They are my blood. If you won’t protect them like a father should, then I will.” Deirdre bit and the girl curled her hands around her brothers even tighter, when the Pattern tried to unbalance her once again.

_“And who will protect you, hm?”_

“I don’t need any _fucking_ protection!” Deirdre bellowed back and the girl didn’t flinch when Oberon narrowed his eyes. 

_“So be it.”_ And Oberon vanished as quickly as he had come, leaving Deirdre to walk the final veil.

“Your words will never be forgotten by him, sister.” Deirdre glanced to Eric, who no longer bore any injury. 

“Nor will we ever forget.” Corwin said with sparkling green eyes.

Deirdre didn’t reply and merely settled to give both her brothers a squeeze with her hands as she pushed through the final veil. The moment she did, the ghostly hands of her brothers vanished, leaving Deirdre to stumble all alone on the silvery centre of the Pattern. 

_She’d done it!_ _She’d actually walked the Pattern, she-_ The euphoria slowly dwindled when Deirdre noticed how the floor became less solid underneath her skin. No… Deirdre craned her head, to see a cloud begin to shroud the moon. Corwin! Deirdre turned her head back up front and noticed her brother only halfway the Pattern. _He wouldn’t make it._ “Hurry, Corwin! Hurry!” It only came out as an incomprehensible growl. Tir na Nogh began to flicker, and the floor began to soften even more…

Until it didn’t. Deirdre blinked, and casted her eyes upwards to see the clouds all around the moon vanish in an instant. Something began to press at Deirdre’s mind - an incoming Trump call. From Benedict? Eric? She would accept them, yet if it were father...That one possibility made Deirdre decide to block any contact whatsoever. She would not return to Amber, not until Eric was safely back from the war Oberon send him to. She would stay by his side even when her presence isn’t wanted. Deirdre took a couple of deep breaths, as she thought of where to send her, and closed her eyes.

-()-

“I get no response.” Benedict grumbled as he put Deirdre’s card away and stared once more to Tir Na Nogh. “How long till dawn?” The warrior asked to Dworkin without taking his eyes of Tir na Nogh. 

“It will take as long as I say it.” The wizard merely said as he caressed the jewel on his chest. 

Benedict spared a quick look at the little man and the jewel. “We only saw Corwin race up the stairs of Tir na Nogh tonight.” 

“But off course.”

Benedict held Dworkin’s gaze a little while longer before turning his attention back on the moon-city. After several minutes of silence, Benedict heard something rustle behind him and swirled around with his sword half-drawn. “Corwin!”

Corwin was swaying already and Benedict rushed forward to keep his brother from hitting his head on the ground for a second time in that very night. “Easy, Corwin. Don’t move your head around too much.” Benedict ordered as he held Corwin by his arms. “Keep your eyes on me.”

“Ben, I can’t focus, I-” Corwin grasped Benedict’s shoulder like a drowning man. At last something solid to hold on to! “My head-” Corwin groaned and shut his eyes - anything to keep those swirling colors away!

“I’m here.” The man replied as he put his hands under Corwin’s knees and slowly heaved him up. 

“Deirdre… Deirdre has she-” The moment Corwin felt the mattress under his back and a cushion under his head, his body shut down and there was nothing but blissful darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upon thinking about Deirdre's and Corwin's Patternwalk... It is intriguing how their colors are the most alike out of all the siblings. True, it cements their... *ahem* special bond, but with the silver-black, Deirdre's symbol being a moon whereas Corwin's a rose, and Grayswandir being forged on those stairs?! 
> 
> I can see Deirdre and Corwin walk Tirs pattern, because Corwin loves to just do that little extra to outdo Eric, and it was Deirdres only way to gain power over Shadow.
> 
> I always quite liked how Corwin described Benedict as a force of nature once he gets loose, and I wanted to... tease that darker side of him and of Eric. I believe the younger Amberites are no different in that regard, seeing how ruthless they all are in battle. Bleys' slaughter fest on Kolvir says a lot. Now if we only got to read about Benedicts stand against the moonriders...


	4. To help a brother

_“Every action you take in One Shadow, ripples into all the others.”_

Deirdre had listened to Dworkin, whenever her brothers thought she were playing with her dolls in that very same room. 

_“So however you will present yourself to the Shadow people in that very first moment, will determine the most how they will perceive you. How all Shadow will perceive you.”_

The Shadow of her desire was littered with what the people would call ‘fjords’, with deep blue lakes and very little vegetation, for it was winter now. Deirdre rubbed her arms when the wind blew against her skin. She could sense how cold the winter air was, but she didn’t _feel_ cold. The Pattern was humming in her veins and let the winter air glide off like water. 

Deirdre looked above her when she heard ravens fly over her head and make circles ahead. That usually meant flesh for them to eat - maybe for her as well. As the young girl walked towards the circling ravens, up and down the hills, the smell of ash began to pierce her nose and pained screams reached her ears. A skirmish? Deirdre increased her pace to run up that final hill and halted atop of it. 

Trampled bodies smeared in blood and mud, with ravens atop of it to do well on their flesh. Broken swords and shields lay scattered under or next to them and Deirdre took a sword for her own as she walked through the dead. 

_“Hjelp meg”_

It was so soft, Deirdre thought it a mere imagination at first. “Hello?” The girl slowly began to scan her surroundings.

_“hjelp meg, jeg er her!”_ A slight movement to her left made Deirdre quickly stride towards it and the pleas became louder and with increasing relief. It was a boy, hardly 15 summers old, with wide eyes from agony and one hand barely clutched at his abdomen. His hair was as black as her brothers, and his eyes were as green as Corwin’s. But that wasn’t Deirdre’s only reason for checking in on the wounded soldier.

Her brothers Eric and Benedict had already walked the Shadows. Benedict brought forth war and left peace behind. Eric brought a sense of justice. They were needed and feared for what they could bring. What was the point, in walking the same path? A kindly given gesture would guide the terrified towards her - her wrath would be feared all the more if they sought it.

“I’m here, friend.” Deirdre crawled across the dead towards the boy and began to press her own hand against the wound. 

_“frūa, frūa, mi øksa”_ The boy kept repeating it over and Deirdre followed his gaze towards the axe that lay out of his reach. The moment Deirdre reached for it and put it in the boy’s hand, all the fear in his eyes made place for a relieved smile. 

_“Tusen takk, frūa, freia…”_ The boy’s tongue began to slur and his grip upon her arm began to lose strength. As he began to reach the final door, the tiniest fear returned in his eyes, fearing damnation or worse, nothing beyond this life.

“You can rest now.” Deirdre hushed in a soothing tone as the boy’s eyes began to dim. “You can rest with your ancestors.” The young girl kept watching as the boy let out his final breath and closed his eyes. 

_“Hjelp meg, frūa, freia!”_

Another began to cry out, and another. And another. There were too many to comfort and Deirdre decided to use her sword to put them out of their agony instead of watching their eyes slowly dim like the little boy.

_“Signe deg, Freja, Valfreyja...”_

The word ‘frūa’, what had only meant ‘lady’ in their tongue at first, slowly transformed in the name they would give her. Soon the shadow she had appeared in, began to call her name for fortune not just for a glorious death, but for fate, love and fertility as well. 

Walking into Shadow was like riding a horse - it took time to master it, but eventually she moved on to other Shadows, who had another tongue… yet who she had already influenced in one way or another.

_Mórrígan, Bastet, Isjtar, Diana,..._

_Lady of the slain, keeper of fate, giver of fertility…we pray to you._

-()-

Eric let out a curse when he felt an incoming trump call, and walked to a quieter place to receive it. “Who?” 

“Deirdre and I walked the Pattern 4 days ago” Eric heard his brother’s voice before he saw him. “And-”

“Wonderful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a war to lead.” Eric began to rise his hand to break contact, when Corwin’s mental scream made him pause.

**_Deirdre has not RETURNED._ **

Two, three heartbeats passed, as Eric began to recapitulate in his head. He hadn’t completely been paying attention to what Corwin had said due to his irritation and hastiness to return to his problems at hand. Now that he realized it concerned their baby sister, Eric intrigue and worry began to put her on his number one priority list. “What do you mean, she hasn’t _returned_?”

“Exactly like I said,” Corwin snapped at his older sibling, “We walked the Pattern - Deirdre was ahead of me and I shouted at her but she wouldn’t listen and -”

“Start from the beginning,” Eric interrupted his brother’s rambling. His spoken words as well as his thoughts were a incohesive mess and it would take ages before he could otherwise scramble the puzzle together. “Calm yourself and begin again.” Corwin’s thoughts became less chaotic now, and Eric listened as Corwin retold his tale - about what had transpired after they had left dinner, Deirdre’s escape to Tir na Nogh, and how he had followed her on the Pattern. 

Eric stayed quiet for a bit, and the question burned on his lips to ask Corwin why he called him for. But he could already take a guess. “She is not here, Corwin.”

“You would say that whether it were true or not.”

The older brother let out a deep sigh - he honestly was not in the mood for word games at the moment. “You allowed Deirdre on the Pattern, I denied her to join this battle in the first place.” Eric decided to put some blame on himself - because it was partly true, but also because he wanted to stop this conversation from escalating. “We both are to blame for her disappearance. Even though you’ve notified me of Deirdre’s possible presence here, I would not know where to look for her. It is not like I can put the entire campaign on hold, as much as I want to. Dad will ask questions in due time about my progress and -” Eric stopped talking when he caught Corwin’s most upfront thought. “ _No._ Out of the question.” The older brother bit.

“I won’t walk in your way.” 

“No, you will walk me to my grave!” Eric snapped. “Deirdre suddenly gone, you being reported on the battlefield - Dad will have me killed before I even arrive back in Amber!”

“I will vouch for you if it were to come to that.”

Eric let out a bitter laugh. “Your word is empty when you are dead. Say you survive, it will be too tempting for you to twist another tale -” Corwin’s thoughts had slowly but exponentially turned chaotic once again at his refusal, the barriers went down, and Eric understood. “ _Ah.”_

Corwin let out a curse when Eric had caught the thought and hastily put up his barriers, as Eric continued to speak.

“You do not know how to walk in Shadow. You need my help.” Eric’s mouth twitched upwards when he felt Corwin’s barriers wobble, confirming what he had just said. "And you somehow didn't ask Ben any help because-?" Eric pressed on with amusement as his brother's shame rose out of the roof.

“I can not ask Benedict.” Corwin's cheeks reddened, “He already found his offered help in Tir Na Nogh sufficient and said that I have to solve this mess by myself.”

“He’s right, you know.”

Corwin’s ire sparked and his green eyes found Eric’s once more. “If you won’t help me, I will tell father-”

“I said I agree. I didn't say I wouldn't teach you." Eric lowly said. There it was, the threat. 

“Eric-” Corwin’s eyes widened and his face turned pale when he realized he'd blown his chances, “Eric, hold on, I didn’t mean-”

“Spare me your excuses. _This_ is how it will continue from here on out,” Eric’s mind rolled over Corwin’s barriers as cold like steel, and held him temporarily frozen on the spot, so his brother wouldn’t forget it. “The moment you get pulled through by Trump, everything what I say, _goes_. No objections, whatsoever.” Eric’s cold presence slowly retreated from Corwin’s mind, “In return, I will teach you how to work the Shadows.” Eric finished his proposal in a formal manner.

Corwin swallowed and grimaced at the thought of being under Eric’s command. He was not a baby anymore that his big brother needed to safeguard, he was as much a prince of Amber as he was now! Eric, whether Corwin would accept his deal or not, had put himself in quite a pickle already for Deirdre. He could so easily refuse, return to the palace and tell father his side of the story… Eric would be no more.

But Deirdre. Deirdre could be lost in Shadow - By the time he was somewhat sufficient in said skill, Deirdre’s trail could be lost. She may even be dead. He couldn’t condemn Eric without condemning Deirdre too. “Alright. I do as you… command, brother.” 

“Come on through.” Eric reached out with his hand, when Corwin suddenly retreated his hand and stuffed his last sandwich in his mouth, before letting himself pulled to his brother.

The older brother immediately made use of Corwin’s temporary disorientation to steal his meal from his mouth and take a big bite out of it.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“And now its in my hands,” Eric replied before stuffing the rest of the food in his mouth. “Once you eat these rashions for a couple of days, you’d kill for something freshly made.” At least, that was what Corwin could make out of it through the muffled eating. 

“Did you?”

Eric swallowed his last bite down and cleaned his hand at his pants. “I’ve ordered to set outposts in Arden,-” the older prince informed his younger brother as they walked to his tent. The map of Arden was on display, with various markers spread out upon it. “- as to cover up more ground. Scouts have reported seeing two legged humanoid looking wolves, able to run on fours. So far, I have not yet ordered any significant attack as I want to observe their behavior at first, so that gives us both some time to -”

“Sir!” 

Both brothers turned their heads at the messenger, “Yes?” The brothers asked simultaneously, which caused the older brother to cast an annoyed glare at his younger brother. 

“Ah… well, it’s… there is…” The messenger hadn’t expected a second Prince to join them on the battlefield and the man struggled with the etiquette. Should he address Prince Eric first, his actual commander? But then again, Prince Corwin was the legit heir. If he addressed Prince Eric before Prince Corwin, wouldn’t that make him a loyalist to the bastard-prince to the both of them? 

“Well, speak up, man!” Eric commanded when the messenger kept stuttering on.

“Valley of Garnath, sir. Another outpost is ready, commander…” The messenger glanced to Corwin as he pointed to the markers. “My lord,” The messenger hastily glanced to Eric, who clenched his jaw at the change of respect.

“You can return to your post, soldier.” The older brother thinly replied.

“Y-yes, my lo-commander.” The messenger corrected himself in time, “Excuse me”. 

As the messenger distanced himself, Corwin let the silence grow for a couple more seconds, “ It was not my intention to undermine your authority.”

“-yet it happened. And therefore, it is in the past,” Eric bitterly replied and kept intensively staring at the map. “Now, let us get you ready.”

“Ready?” Corwin’s eyes began to sparkle, when Eric’s flat voice crushed his hope.

“Yes.” Eric’s blue eyes finally locked into Corwin’s. “I can’t have you run around in your pyjama’s when I teach you how to work the Shadows. We’re still in a warzone.” 

Corwin’s huffed. “Please, Eric. I am now as capable as you to lift a grown man and fight for hours.”

“You’ll be dead like any Shadow-dweller with a lost spear-” Eric flicked his finger against Corwin’s forehead, “- finding its way through your skull. The Pattern grants us many skills, but do not think invincibility is one of them.”

“I didn't know you were so concerned for my well being.” Corwin grimaced as he rubbed the spot where Eric had flicked his finger on.

Something flashed over Eric's eyes that Corwin couldn't quite place. It had been in a fraction of a second, before his face turned stern once more. "I'm not concerned, I'm teaching you common sense. If not Benedict, It seems to become my job." An actual smile this time, and Eric's eyes smiled along as the older brother grabbed Corwin by the shoulder to guide him along.

It felt strange and sudden, the comradery they had as of now. And even though Corwin reminded himself to stay on guard, a small smile formed on his lips before he could cover it up. 

Eric tore his eyes off his little brother and his voice boomed. “ROGER!”

Corwin noted a scrawny little boy, hardly 10 years old, jump up from his seat when Eric called his name, and causing to spill ink all over his papers and clothing.

Eric sighed and Corwin glanced at his brother, raising an eyebrow. The only response he gained was a grunt.

“Ye, yes, my lord?” The page hastily ran towards his master, and stopped before the two brothers.

“See to it my brother is armed.” Eric ordered as he released his grip on Corwin’s shoulder, “And that your fingers are clean.” 

The page glanced to his fingers that were still dripping with ink and felt his cheeks redden in shame. “Yes, my lord.”

“Since you seem to have so much time to write, begin cleaning my tent as well afterwards.”

“Yes, my lord. Immediately.” Roger bowed when Eric turned on his heel and glanced to Corwin. “If you please follow me, my lord?”

After cleaning his hands, the page began to dress Corwin for battle. The silence and the process soon began to bore Corwin and the prince glanced to the now soaked inky papers. “You were writing to someone in particular?”

“I was… writing _for_ someone, my lord.” Roger replied as he strapped the right gauntlet around Corwin’s arm. “An illiterate friend composed a song and I wanted to gift it on paper.”

“What is this song about? Sing it.”

Roger paused in the midst of his task, “I can not, my lord,” The page replied as he continued to strap the left gauntlet at Corwin’s arm. 

“Do you forget so easily once you put it on paper?” Corwin’s voice began to turn colder at the audacity of the little page. “Or do you need a shock as to memorize it again?”

“No, my lord,” Roger held his face low so the prince couldn’t see him biting his lip, “ I promised my friend I would not sing it before his song was complete.” The page took a few steps back once he was finished and didn’t dare to look up to Corwin. 

“Well, I hope for your friend the wait will be worth it.” Corwin icily replied as he towered over Roger before striding out of the tent. “Eric,-” The prince quietened when he noted his brother’s agitated voice and before he reached him, Eric strode into the other direction. “Eric!”

“New development. Have to go.” Eric shouted to his brother as he mounted his horse. 

“I can come wi-”

“No. You _stay_ and watch.” Eric ordered Corwin like he would a dog, before looking at Roger. “See to Corwin’s needs, Roger.” 

Corwin scowled when Eric kicked his boots and vanished from his view. “Why wasn’t I an only child?!”

-()-

“Princess Deirdre of Amber.”

The king of Eregnor glanced up from the letter signed by the very person that now came in. He’d met the Princess briefly upon his visit to Amber, so it was a great shock to see the person before him. All trace of the delicate Amberite fashion had now made way to a mixture of ragged clothing and fur draped around her shoulders, as if she’d walked in winter instead of summer the entire time. Her hair was no longer short like that of a boy, but kept long and tight at the back of her head with braids. “My lady. Welcome to Eregnor.”

“Your words hardly match with your actions, my lord.” Deirdre sharply replied, “You have received my messenger as well as my letter I send with him. I fail to understand any problem.”

The king let out a little laugh, “My lady, you come at the borders of my Shadow with an army at your back, with a sigil we had never seen before, and you expect us to grant you way into Arden? We have not forgotten what Prince Osric and Finndo pulled off several decades ago, you could very much attempt the same. And I very much like my country and name not to be mentioned in one breath with you if Oberon ever found out your little expedition -” The king frowned when a red-colored raven suddenly came from the open window and seated itself at Deirdre’s outstretched hand. The moment it did, the raven melted once more into liquid blood, that dripped from Deirdre’s hand upon the floor.

“Since the current King of Eregnor is so stubborn as to let Oberon’s only daughter from reaching her homeland,” Deirdre casually remarked as she cleaned up her hand, “is it that strange she brings troops out of Shadow to let her pass by force?” Deirdre saw the King’s adam apple bobble up and down and sighed, “Oh dear, I hope you haven’t send a raven to Amber yet to inform my father the news. One might think you have ill intentions towards me or my family.”

“If it is war you desire, you can have it. Your troops will break on our shields. We outnumber you 3 to 1.”

“If I somehow lose, I’ll simply find another shadow to recruit and go to another Golden Circle who is more willing to listen to me.” Deirdre’s eyes sought the King’s and held his. “Troops are dispensable to me. What about your reputation?”

The king swallowed and stood up from his throne with a forced smile, “Where are my manners? Let us take our conversation somewhat more comfortable for you, my lady,” the man said as he pointed with his hand to invite her to come with him, “and to see you washed.”

“You are most kind, your majesty.” Deirdre smiled as sweetly as honey.

-()-

Corwin was getting more impatient by the hour and at long last, the prince couldn’t bear sitting there any longer. 

“My lord? Where are you going?” Roger asked when Corwin went to the entrance of the tent. “Your brother commanded you to stay -”

“Eric is not the King,” Corwin cut the page off as the guards crossed their spears. With nonchalance, the prince had disarmed and kicked the two squirming guards on the ground within seconds before yelling for a horse.

“No, he is not, my lord, but well…”

“Didn’t my brother say to see to my every need, page?” 

“He did, my lord.”

“Then why do you not do as you are told?” Corwin icily reprimanded him. 

Roger swallowed and ran to find a suited horse for the prince, saddled it and held the horse still as Corwin mounted his steed. 

The prince frowned when Roger suddenly went to another horse and mounted it as well. “What are you doing?”

“Your brother asked me to see to your every need, my lord.”

“That he did. He did not order you to put yourself on another blade.” Corwin shifted somewhat uncomfortably in the saddle - not that he was concerned for the boy’s life, but much rather what Eric would do if he heard the news he’d dragged his page into this. 

“I am not planning on such a thing.” Roger replied as he ordered his horse forward so he was somewhat next to Corwin’s. 

“Unicorn, I can see why Eric chose you.” Corwin muttered to himself as he kicked his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is less about Deirdre this chapter, and more about the dynamic between Eric and Corwin. I wasn't planning on putting so much time in their sections, but I felt it necessary to flesh out their dynamic more. 
> 
> As for Deirdre, the rulebook describes her as a shieldmaiden of Amber. Despite this, she is also one of the most beloved royals. I wanted to convey both those sides in the chosen goddesses she inspires.
> 
> Lastly: reviews are much appreciated. They boost my confidence that people like this story and want me to continue on. Any feedback, positive or negative, is much appreciated, as long as you stay polite :)


	5. Soldier, Poet, King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aplogize in advance. I'm not good with.. military terms. I'm not good in writing strategy or any battle scene at all. I have nothing but the utmost respect the way RZ can describe sword duels or marine battles.

Eric stared down at the beast in front of him - judging by its graying fur, it had been an old one. Probably had been challenged by a more stronger, younger opponent. “Where did you find her?” The prince asked without taking his eyes off the Weir. 

“About 30 miles, southwest.”

“Time of death?” Eric asked as he opened up the Weir’s mouth to examine his teeth, before moving on to its claws.

“We think she was dead 10-15 hours before our arrival.” 

“No sights of any other Weirs?”

“No, my lord, that is to say…” Eric looked to one of the soldiers, who started to find his feet very interesting all of the sudden. “We found a few of her pups still alive and scattered in bushes.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Forgive us my lord, I - we -,” the man corrected with shame on his cheeks, “- could not bring ourselves to do it. We took them in and have them feed off our fertile bitches.”

“They may be of use to us, now that their actual mother is gone.” The prince turned once more to examine the Weir, and his eyes gleamed as he began to open up the mother’s claws. If he could succeed in domesticating them, they would be truly valuable to the defense of Arden. Eric rolled the female Weir on her back and began to cut with his hunter knife like Benedict had taught him. Soon, the prince had dissected the entire fur from her and rubbed the still bloodied Weir skin arround his shoulders. “Examine her before she begins to rot and bring your findings to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

“Now, you bring me to those pups.” Eric beckoned one of the men at him as the present soldiers rushed towards the dead Weir to dissect her. The quicker one familiarized themself with dogs at birth, the quicker they would see him as their surrogate parent. The skin of their dead mother would aid in establishing said relationship and bring the pups comfort with her familiar scent nearby. 

“This way, my lord.” The man glanced away, clearly uncomfortable with the blood and overall stench that exuded from the prince as he guided him to the chained dogs. The 4 Weir pups were immediately noticeable - being overall bigger than their hounds, and more aggressive to take the milk for themselves. Eric reached for one of them and the little Weir squealed as he was lifted up from the warm comfort of his siblings, before calming down when he noted a familiar scent. “Hello, little one.” The prince soothingly said as he stroked the Weir’s little back. So he went by each one, until he noticed a 5th Weir pup, that was pushed aside by his siblings. 

The runt of the litter. 

“Are there other fertile bitches around?” Eric demanded as he kept the squeaking Weir at his chest. 

“Well, there is one more, but shouldn’t it be better to leave him with his kin, my lord? In that way -”

“He will surely die. And the mother’s actual pups, if you don’t spread the Weirs accordingly. See to it.” Eric said as he rose from his knelt position.

“Yes, my lord.” 

Eric frowned and turned his head towards the swelling commotion. One of his commanders came into view, much like his horse very heavily breathing from exertion. “Skirmish spotted with the weirs, outside our camp, my lord.” The man gasped out. 

“Outside our camp? I gave the order to halt any nightly expedictions till further notice!”

The man swallowed to get his breathing under control and replied in a less frantic manner, “Everyone has been called in for rappel my lord. No one in this camp has disobeyed your orders.”

_No one in this camp…_ “Send ravens to the other camps and tell them to do the same.” Eric ordered, when he noticed his commander was visibly hesitating. “Is there anything else to report?” 

“What of our men out there, my lord? Shall I send reinforcements?” 

“They went out knowing the consequences - I won’t save men who can’t keep their word nor can follow my orders in battle.” Eric flatly gave as an answer. “Should the weirs come too close to our camps, inform me.”

“Yes, my lord.” The commander nodded, gave a kick with his heels and the horse galloped out of view with its rider.

Just when Eric wanted to revert his attention to the weir pups, another man rushed towards him, saying a message had arrived from one of the camps that was still under construction. No sooner had he read and replied on it, or the soldiers came in who had constructed the autopsy on the weir came to bring their first remarks. 

“My lord, the-”

“I will read it later on. You are dismissed.” Eric replied during the briefing. 

“My lord, it is about-”

“I said you are dismissed. Are you deaf?” Eric bit, his eyes finally settling on the messenger. 

“No, my lord; but-” The man rapidly scurred backwards when Eric stood up from his chair and strode towards him with murder in his eyes for defying his orders a second time, “it concerns the accounted people in the camps; Prince Corwin and your page Roger have not accounted for, along with 150 men.” The man rapidly blurted out just before Eric had him by the throat. 

“What” Eric breathed out and ripped the letter out of the messenger’s hand instead of his throat to see for himself. The prince growled in frustration and crumpled the letter to dust. Unicorn, how he would LOVE to let his brother get smacked in the face by his own arrogance. But suppose the worst case scenario and his brother doesn’t make it out without a scratch, no doubt he’ll receive more than that from father. “Get the commanders out of bed, get the men ready. Reserves stay at camp. Notify the other settlements of the situation and to have their troops move out at a moment’s notice.” Eric said as he loosened his sword in his belt. Damn you Corwin.

“My lord!”

_Oh what now?!_ “Yes!” With an increasingly fouler mood, Eric barked at the incoming messenger. 

“An army with an unknown banner is approaching from the west, wearing the sigil of Amber alongside with it.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at this. “And what is depicted on said banner?” He had to spend hours upon hours of learning the sigils not only of those in Amber, but also of the nearby Shadows as well.

“A silver moon with a black background, my lord.”

_Could it be that the Weirs are just the first wave? It was almost too coincidental that made the prince’s hair stand on end._ “They wear our banner - one can not automatically assume they come in peace.” Eric scratched his beard, rolling the numbers and decisions in his head. The banner didn’t ring any bells, and Benedict would ring his head for what he was about to do - split up his forces to take his brother out of the heat, as well as facing the unknown army. 

“Send a group of scouts to search for my brother. The necessary reserves stay at camp, the remaining men are to stand ready within a quarter.” Eric glanced to the other camps that were close to his own. “How long does it take for the other camps to get to the rendez-vous point?”

“With our fastest riders, and the mobilisation… approximately an hour, an hour and a half and three hours, my lord.” The commander replied as he pointed to each of the nearest camps. 

“Send for the first two to come at once, alert the third to stay on guard and to pass on the information.”

“Yes my lord.”

_-()-_

They'd ridden for about half an hour and the Shadows began to fall heavy in Arden as the sun began to set. Feeling the chill of the evening, Roger shuddered and glanced to the forrest lines. Perhaps, they should have stayed and waited for the next day to meet up with Prince Eric.

"Are you afraid?"

Startled, Roger glanced to an emotionless looking Corwin. If he said yes, he would look a coward. If he said no, the prince would know he was lying. "I am concerned, my lord. Scouts have reported these Weirs are quite active during the night."

Corwin merely huffed at his answer, leaving the little page to wonder whether he was pleased or not with his response. After a couple more minutes of riding, Roger felt his horse stiffen up and raise his head. "Ho boy, easy. Easy..." His wasn't the only one who was acting angsty. Prince Corwin's horse, Lieutenant Chantris... "My lord..." Roger swallowed his plea to listen to the horses when he heard howls echo around them.

"Torches, light them!" Corwin barked and Roger was shaken out of his trance, reaching for his bundle. The horses decided to disobey their commands and began to trample even more nervously on the ground, and instead of reaching for his tinder box, Roger held on to his horse as for not to fall off. Just as he had him somewhat under control and began to look around, Roger noted several yellow eyes staring back at them. "Unicorn help us." The page reached for his dagger - not that it would do much damage should it come to a fight, but it was something - and put his boots out of the stirups.

The next few seconds were only chaos. Horses and men screamed and were trampled by huge furry blurrs. Roger screamed and let himself drop from his horse when he saw a wolf lunge itself at him. The page groaned when he hit the ground, hearing the horse's pained screams in his ear. But it wasn't him, not yet. Roger blindly began to scramble away and up his feet, only to jump back when a horse nearly ran him over. As he turned around, the page looked straight into the eyes of the gigantic wolf that had ripped open his horse.

And by gigantic, Roger wasn't exaggerating. It was nearly as big as a grown man and his own dagger felt like a toothpick compared to the pair of wolf's teeth.

It is easy, to say you would be brave in battle and charge towards the enemy. Roger completely froze on the spot, unable to run away let alone force his body to defend himself. Just as the wolf leaped towards him, a spear soared past him and through the wolf's throat. "Get out of here, boy." The soldier spoke with clear disgust on his face, as if he were a burden.

“Sir…” To his horror, the very same wolf that the soldier had slain, stood back on his legs, still wounded… but very much angry. “Sir behind y-” Before he could even finish his warning, the soldier along with his horse were hurled on the ground. The teeth snapped, screams turned to gurgles, and bones cracked. 

“Oh gods-” Roger wailed as he turned his head, feeling bile form in his throat and ran away once more. He wanted to cry, to curl up in a ball and feel his mother’s arms around him. Everywhere road he went there were only screams of dying men and the horses, clashing metal and pools of blood. Roger skidded to a halt when he saw another wolf notice him. It seemed to smile, as if it sensed it was an easy snack, an easy prey to full his belly. Blindly, Roger searched for his dagger, only to find air at his belt. Shit, he had dropped it! Roger quickly scanned the area and grabbed the nearest sword he could find. 

Eric had given him a couple of fencing lessons - Roger resisted the urge to flee or panic this time and raised his sword like Eric had instructed him towards the wolf, who was a bit more cautious than before.

Keep your feet apart, your body loose.

The wolf launched, and Roger swung his sword. The wolf evaded, and Roger slowly walked backwards to get more time to recover. The second time the wolf launched at him, Roger failed to completely protect himself, felt the claws graze at his arm and the page screamed, nearly dropping the sword in the process. The wolf attacked far more quicker now that his opponent was wounded, and Roger realized with horror and disgust, the wolf was literally toying with him. “Come on then!” Roger screamed enraged at the taunting wolf. “Come at me!” The attacks went back and forth for a very short time, till the wolf finally found an opening on the tiring little page and began to tear his claws through his skin. 

Roger saw stars from hitting the ground - the wolf had tried going for his throat, but feeling the page's sword preventing him from reaching it, the wolf now focused on his swordarm.

Something cracked, and red pain shot all the way through his shoulder. Roger wailed from the sudden agony, and his strength left him to keep up his sword. Through teary eyes the page saw the wolf open his mouth to go for his throat when all of a sudden, the wolf howled from actual agony. Roger couldn't care less what had happened to his opponent. He felt dizzy and sluggish, despite the flaring pain in his arm... He had to get up, he had to- to... Roger's body shut down from the whining adrenaline and the blood loss.

_-()-_

Eric narrowed his eyes when he saw the messenger along with its negotiators come forward. Something was familiar about the woman in the middle… As Eric kicked the heels of his horse and slowly approached the group with his own white flag and banner, the prince soon recognized his sister.

_His bloody sister!_

The past few hours had been nerve-wrecking to say the least, and the relief he felt to see his sister alive and well, was quickly smothered by his still unspent rage. “Even Benedict wouldn’t be so foolish as to attempt a coup against our father. What. are. you. thinking?!” The prince growled as he halted his horse. 

Deirdre had expected Eric to burst out against her - but never like this. Never with such feral eyes, and shown teeth. “This is not a coup. None of you supported me when I asked to join in your battle. So I will join with or without any of your approval.”

“You know how I stand. And as of right now, you are marching into Arden with an army without my explicit permission.” Eric warned her.

“You would raise your sword against your own sister?” Deirdre slowly asked, not wanting to believe his words just yet. 

"You returned in a rush to play at war, to seize glory when you hardly have the experience or knowledge how to properly seize it.” Eric retorted back, and he saw the discomfort in Deirdre’s eyes to know it was true. “So yes, I will raise my sword if you drive me that far. It will be a far easier victory than the actual war I’m in.” And to emphasize his point, Eric raised his hand, to which hundreds of bows were lifted in the air with their arrows shining in the dim moonlight. He’d lied to himself all this time, to be someone he did not wish to be. 

The hunger for father’s approval that Eric thought to have lost in the Pattern Chamber, had always kept lingering in his head. The power he had held when he ordered the arrows raised, tasted like sweet wine upon his lips, so much so that he wanted to taste more of it. Deirdre had listened to him, in that moment. Corwin had listened to him, the moment he had held the power over Shadow above his head. By merely standing around, accepting his fate as a bastard son of his father, wasn’t enough any longer for him. He would put his mark here, in Amber and he would seize whatever there was to take before his impulsive and foolish siblings made him pay for their mistakes.

The rage in his eyes was still there, but a growing spark of hunger and pleasure began to shine as well. He was enjoying the humiliation and the weakness he laid bare of her. Yes, she had had no strategy lessons from Benedict. Yes, she had rushed herself to be at Eric’s side - because she had done it all for him! “And what will father say, when you bring him a red porcupine for his daughter?” Deirdre retorted back, feeling far more betrayed now than she was at the dinner table. “I never thought you’d put the throne of Amber above its security!” The hungry spark dimmed somewhat in Eric’s eyes and slight hesitation rose instead.

“You’re right. This is about the throne of Amber.” Eric replied at a much more controlled manner. She was of the very few, who he would consider a close ally. As much as he desired to take everything, being without friends at court would be his undoing. Being honest, every once in a while, had its values, to see how the sheep will react. Eric lowered his hand, and the bows followed with him. “This is about the throne of Amber.” Eric repeated once again, “Corwin has ridden with a dozen men or so deep in Arden despite my orders to stay inside, and Weirs have been spotted to roam around our camps. If something befalls on him...” Eric deliberately let the sentence linger.

“Its quite convenient for you and me both.” Deirdre quietly interrupted her brother. “You may have humiliated me, Corwin humiliated me even more so. If we join our forces and father hears of what has occured, he will surely see Corwin ill-fitted to be the warden of Arden in the future.” Deirdre saw her brother lick her lips at her offer and the princess felt her back shudder. Whatever her brother’s thoughts were, the way he acted reminded Deirdre too much of Corwin, and an instinctive voice warned the princess to stay weary of him in the future.

Eric’s mouth turned upwards before he nodded at his sister. “Its a great offer I’m willing to accept.” The prince then turned in his saddle to one of his officers to say, “Inform that they come in peace and are here to help with the Weir-threat.” As the officer rode back, the prince turned his attention back to Deirdre. “Let us discuss somewhere more comfortably how we will see it done, shall we?”

_-()-_

Corwin, all while the onslaught of his men took place, lost himself in the thrill of battle. It was only when he noticed his brother upon the field, that the berserk-mad prince sobered up. The fog lifted from his eyes, and the screams of the wounded finally reached his ears. Corwin opened his mouth to speak, “Eric, I…” The younger prince found no other words to say, when Eric came forward on his horse, clothed with blood and and the very promise of death in his eyes. 

“Where have you left my page?”

Corwin blinked, then frowned. His page.. what-was-his-name-again?

“My page.” Eric repeated once more and after another heartbeat he added to refresh Corwin’s memory, “Roger.” 

Eric only seemed to become more calm by the second, and it unnerved Corwin far more than if he had screamed at him. “I don’t know.” Corwin finally said, refusing to look away from Eric’s eyes, as much as he wished to. 

The spear turned in Eric’s hand, and Corwin became as pale as a ghost when Eric raised it. The younger brother flinched when he heard the spear released and hit - something else. Corwin turned around, to see Eric ride past him, dismount his horse and retrieve his spear from the wolf he had thrown it at.

“How many men did you take?” Eric went on asking. He knew the exact amount he had taken with him - he just wanted to know whether his brother had.

“I… I don’t know.” Corwin swallowed, before taking a guess, “50?”

“150 men.” Eric replied without any emotion. 

“That’s… not as much as I feared.” Corwin yelped when Eric caught him by the neck and turn him towards the slain bodies. 

“Not as much as you feared?” Eric whispered in his ear. “Then you go and tell their wives and families, these soldiers were ‘not that much’.”

“We took down 20 Weirs, which is more than you acch-” Corwin began to defend himself.

“We need our men more than our enemy needs theirs!” Eric spat at his brother as he put more pressure upon his neck. “Not a for a random search in the woods or your inflated ego!” The elder prince let his brother go and Corwin sagged on the ground.

“Don’t waste your words on him, Eric. Go and oversee your army, while mine looks after the wounded.”

Corwin turned his head so quickly, he nearly hurt his neck. There was Deirdre on her horse, armored and completely at ease in this very environment. 

“If you find Roger, notify me at once.” Eric said to her while mounting his horse. “As for Corwin, see to it that he’s brought safely to our camp,” The prince continued on while ignoring to look at his brother.

“I’ll make sure he stays there.” Deirdre smiled back at Eric, only now focusing her eyes at Corwin, who’s cheeks were burned from shame and anger. 

“You have a horse to spare?” 

Deirdre glanced up and down at her brother. “You aren’t wounded. So you can walk just fine along with my escort.” The princess replied shortly, before ushering her horse forward and looking among the bodies. 

Roger was eventually found by one of Deirdre’s soldiers, who signalled Deirdre of the news that he was buried under one of the wolves. Immediately the princess ushered to help and heave the dead wolf from Roger’s body. Grabbing a knife, Deirdre held it by Roger’s nose, to see his breath appear on the hilt. “Send a message to my brother that his page is found, but gravely wounded.” Deirdre ordered as she began to bandage Roger’s arm to keep the blood from flowing out freely. As she did, the princess noted the silver bracelet that the page wore. It was a fragile little thing that the wolf could have easily torn apart with its strength. So why hadn’t he? Deirdre carefully removed the bracelet before she allowed the soldiers to take Roger to the base camp and glanced to the dead Weir. Opening its mouth, Deirdre saw several of its teeth broken off. And when examining his claws, the princess noted something very familiar branded in its paw. Deirdre laid the bracelet and the paw next to one another, saw the striking similarity and placed the silver upon its fur. Immediately, it began to smoke like hot iron in the water. Well, that was interesting… Deirdre hurled the wolf upon her shoulder like a herder would a sheep and sprinted among her soldiers on horseback back to camp without any effort. 

-()-

After informing Benedict through Trump about Deirdre's return, Eric went to see how Roger fared.

“His wounds will heal, but I fear his arm will never move as smoothly as it could before, my lord.” The physician informed Eric.

“Do what you can.”

The physician shifted uncomfortably. “My lord, doing surgery with that little blood… he needs rest to recover. Once he has, I can look whatever damage I can minimize. I’m merely warning you, should-”

Eric raised his hand to stop the physician from rambling on, “Yes, yes,” The prince grumbled, because he hated that the man was absolutely right. While those of Amber were far quicker to recover from disease and wounds than those in Shadow, it was nothing compared to the regenerative genes of the royal family. It tends to fly over Eric’s head at times like these. 

“M-mh…” 

The prince was brought out of his thoughts when he heard Roger groan. “Boy, can you hear me?” 

The page opened his mouth, only for cracks and chirps to come out instead of words. The prince dipped a blanket in water and let it drop into the boy’s mouth who was still too weak to take anything in his hands. 

Roger licked his lips and tried again. “Forgive me, my lord. You tasked me to look after Corwin’s needs, I-I-” The page gasped from the pain as he tried to push himself upright.

“Stay down.” Eric ordered him as he pushed the boy on his back once more. “You have lost quite a lot of blood. Over exerting yourself will only slow down your recovery.”

Thinking that his lord thought him weak, and having perhaps heard of his cowardly actions in his first battle, Roger panicked. ”I could not persuade him to stay, my lord! I went with him and- and during battle, I shamefully have to admit, I panicked, I-I-I didn't mean to be a burden nor a disgrace to you and your brother! Forgive me, my lord!” The page was hyperventilating as he went on, and Eric grabbed him by his good shoulder. 

“You are neither a burden nor a disgrace to me, Roger.” Eric firmly said as he looked him in the eye. “You did more than any other page would have dared to do at your age. You stayed by my brother, you fought in battle without any training, and you killed a Weir with silver.”

“I did?” Roger frowned as Eric reached for the bracelet at the table and returned it to Roger.

“It is as poisonous to them as acid is to us.” The prince explained as Roger fiddled to put it back on his arm. “Well done, squire.”

Roger’s eyes snapped from his bracelet to the prince in pure shock, and his lips trembled. “My lord…I’d kneel, but... ”

“Let’s not for now.” Eric nodded with a hint of a smile on his face before standing up and returning to his siblings. He could have kept the bracelet to be melted, much like he had ordered every silvery juwelry of every soldier to be melted as arrow points or alongside the metal of the swords. As the prince walked outside his tent, he noticed Corwin and to his slight nervousness, Rein. He didn't remember the young recruit to be enlisted to go along...

Corwin and Rein began to strike an conversation, or rather, Corwin was interrogating the young man, noticing the lute he had brought with him. "Why do you bring it to the sick?"

"A friend of mine wrote down my song, my lord. I wanted to let him hear the complete version so he could forget his pain a little."

"Ah. So you are _that_ friend."

Rein swallowed under Corwin's gaze. "My lord? I'm afraid I do not know what you are talking about."

"That page of Eric's mentionned he was writing down a song for a friend. He refused to sing it to me. Must be _quite_ the ballad if he wants to keep it so secret, even for a prince of Amber."

"I'm touched by your concern for my squire's well-being." Eric interrupted just then, "He's concious and he would most welcome your company." The prince adressed it this time not solidly to Corwin, but to Rein as well, who went inside to play for Roger.

Corwin gave his brother a sneer. "I did not order him to go and search for you. He did that -"

"Then you should have had the balls to say 'no'. Tomorrow I send you back to the castle. Deirdre is found and therefore I have no further need of your insufferable presence here. Father must already be _so worried_ about you." Eric's words were dripping with sarcasm and bitterness, but Corwin only heard the thick sarcasm.

"I'm not to be shoved aside like a toy you don't need!" Corwin snapped at his older brother.

Welcome to my world, Corwin. Eric rolled his eyes at his brother's words - how many times hadn't HE been shoved aside in games whenever Corwin or Deirdre played together? The older brother just opened his mouth to retort, when the voice of their sister interrupted.

"You are sending us _back_?"

"Can't have anything happen to father's golden child, can I?" Eric nodded to a seething Corwin, before turning to face Deirdre. "And you are hardly educated in the ways of war."

Deirdre gritted her teeth at her brother. "I'm hardly educated because father wishes it so and because Ben is too much a puppet to oppose him!" Flustered from emotion, Deirdre saw Eric grant her a wolf-like grin, while Corwin looked at her with shocked and pleasing eyes.

"I will teach you if no one else supports you, sister." Corwin said as he took a step closer to her.

"It is much appreciated, brother." Deirdre gave him a smile so sweet, Eric could see her lips dripping with honey. 

_"There will come a soldier_  
_Who carries a mighty sword_  
_He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord_  
_O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord_  
_He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord...'_

Deirdre let herself be hugged around the waist by Corwin and kept her disgust hidden. She had never liked Corwin the way she liked Eric - but Corwin seemed more... openminded, far more emotionally attached to her to give in to her desires and wishes. If Eric so wished to be as shallow as Oberon, she would let him be. "I'm willing to apologize, for.. my behavior on the battlefield. Things were stressful and Eric had ordered me to take you safely back to camp, so I didn't..." Deirdre, while talking, moved closer to Corwin and let her fingers travel on his arm. 

_'There will come a poet_  
_Whose weapon is his word_  
_He will slay you with his tongue, o lei o lai o lord_  
_O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord_  
_He will slay you with his tongue, o lei o lai o lord..'_

Vaguely, Eric could hear Rein sing in the far end of his tent, and the words themselves didn't reach him as his prime concern were his siblings. The older brother kept his face stone-cold as Deirdre glanced at him, obviously trying to see if her behavior towards Corwin sparked any jealousy. Eric was smiling on the inside, for it was so obvious for everyone, aside from Corwin what Deirdre was doing to him. Though the prince couldn't help but feel some... he wouldn't say regret, but something was permanently lost as of this very moment between the three of them, and it would never be recaptured. Eric quietly vanished, good as he was at getting unnoticed in previous years and let Corwin to be bewitched by Deirdre.

_'There will come a ruler_  
_Whose brow is laid in thorn_  
_Smeared with oil like David's boy, o lei o lai o lord_  
_O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord_  
_Smeared with oil like David's boy, o lei o lai o lord'_

Reins soft singing slowly dissappeared as Eric walked towards the little Weir pups. They seemed alright and the only beings content seeing his face. For how long he’d stroked and played with them, Eric couldn’t tell, nor when the Trump call rang in his head. 

“Yes?” Eric swallowed when he noticed King Oberon appear before him. “Father.” The prince managed to say with an even voice. 

“Eric.” Other than his name, Oberon glanced at his son through the trump call, inspecting him like one would examine merchandise. “Take my hand.” The king finally said.

Oberon’s bastard son blinked. Had he heard it correctly? Never had father offered him to take him through a trump card - that honor only was given Benedict and Corwin. Before Oberon might think his silence as a refusal, Eric clasped his father’s hand and was brought in the not-so-empty throne room. Various noblemen were present as well, who gaped at his arrival and began to whisper among themselves.

Glancing sideways, Eric saw Benedict present as well, who just pulled in Deirdre and Corwin with the trump card. Immediately, bells began to chime in Eric’s head. If Benedict were present, that meant things were blood serious, Eric thought to himself. But first... “Your majesty.” Eric let go of his father’s hand, strode backwards to the proper distance and courtisied before the king.

Deirdre blinked in shock when she noted Eric coming through father’s trump and gave a questioning look at Benedict, who merely looked away from her to nod at their father. The message was clear. Greet your father first. “Your majesty.” Deirdre approached the king of Amber, courtisied and heard Corwin utter the same words of respect to their father. 

“I send Prince Eric to deal with the Weir-creatures that were bordering at our forests.” Oberon loudly stated.

If there is one thing that Deirdre could appreciate, was that father was always on point. But his words too were well-chosen, and the princess’ ears peaked at the way their father had adressed Eric. It was the first time she’d ever known Eric to be called a prince in public. Once again, the princess felt a shudder ripple across her back and glanced subtly sideways - Corwin had noted it too. His face was a mask, but his eyes burned and his body stiff. Deirdre lended her ears once more to Eric, who now replied for all to see about his acchievements, when-

“I prevented my brother Corwin from recklessly venturing after my sister after she vanished into Shadow, and prevented his death a second time when he went against my orders.”

Corwin’s breath next to her hitched, and Deirdre’s did too, when Eric didn’t even speak a word about her accomplishments in her very first battle, painting her instead as an incompetent fool. 

Eric had to shamefully admit to himself, he was going a bit too far in his story. But the words were said, it was done, and he would not go back on them again. 

“You did well.” Oberon merely said. To Eric, it was far more rare than seeing Benedict laughing. Yet when he saw the glint in his father’s eyes, the prince wondered if he knew what the truth was and what wasn’t. Not that father would ever care about things done fairly.

Deirdre's muscles tensed up, and so did Corwin's, for they both thought the same. Would their father actually legitimize Eric?!

“Therefore, I appoint you to be the Warden of Arden as of this day.”

The room erupted in cheers, and Eric’s heart sung. It was only slightly quelled by the jealousy that exuded from Deirdre’s and Corwin’s eyes, and the dissappointing fact that father hadn't officially legitimized him.. (yet). But, he should be grateful with what he already got...“You honor me, your majesty.” Eric allowed himself to smile, and why wouldn’t he? It was the best among his siblings, aside from Benedict. “Though, if I may be allowed to make one request?” When Oberon nodded, Eric told him of the silver that the Weirs seemed so affected by, asked him to use whatever silver there was to forge into the weapons of his rangers, and… “- to allow me to have my own Pattern-sword.”

“Done.” Oberon nodded once again and turned to his eldest son. “Benedict.”

Eric frowned when Oberon called out at his older brother, but he apparently seemed to know without any question what his father wished. Benedict shortly returned when they had all seated themselves at the dinner table (Eric was for once at his father’s right side), with the sheathed sword in his hand. The sword seemed familiar though. Where had he seen it before?

Deirdre had recognised it immediately though, leaned to Corwin to whisper something in his head, causing her brother’s eyes to widen and glance from the sword to Benedict and back again. 

Oberon had granted Osric’s very own Pattern-sword to Eric. Its wearer was long dead, but the swords power and spells had not. Its name was never known to either Deirdre or Corwin. Benedict might know, but not say. 

It seemed Eric at last had realized whom the previous wearer had been, for he stared at Benedict too. “It is yours,” the tall warrior replied, “safe for its original name. A new wearer requires a new name, for taking the old one will bring bad luck upon you much like its previous owner.”

Eric nodded at this - and frankly, he would not have wanted to take the name of Osric’s sword. As he watched the golden-colored blade sparkle in the candle-light, the name came to Eric, and he spoke it aloud, “Werewindle. It’s new name will be Werewindle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eric's reaction about Roger's fate I based off Benedict's murder rampage at Corwin in Guns. You don't toy with the property of an Amberite, and Corwin just wasted 150 men from Eric. 
> 
> With the theorized idea that Eric has some control over the Weirs sent at Deirdre (according to the Amber RPG rulebook), maybe even crossbreeding the Weirs to what will eventually become Julian's Hellhounds, it seemed to just make sense that Eric established the watch in Arden before Julian took over. 
> 
> It was always so odd that Brand had a Pattern-sword that is not only Grayswandir's twin, but also a spikard? How did HE get such an awesome tricket from Oberon?! It seemed more poetic to me that Eric inherited Werewindle from one of their late brothers. It wouldn't surprise me if Oberon knew that Werewindle and Grayswandir were spikards and kept quiet about it.
> 
> The song featured here is "Soldier, Poet, King" from "The Oh Hello's." I've listened the past few weeks to this beautiful somewhat nostalgic-sounding song and it seemed to fit this chapter quite nicely.


	6. A Midsummer Nightmare

Eric took a deep breath, tasting the salt sea on his lips for the first time in many months as he approached Amber. He’d been so occupied with his duty in Arden, he had not kept any track of time. Just the occasional and superficial “How do you do?” via Trump was his sole communication with his siblings. As of late, dad’s time in Shadow had become more frequent and as usual, left without giving any orders upon his departure. 

It were at times like these, Eric cursed his position. Don’t get him wrong - he loved the forest, he loved the thrill of the hunt and the exploration of Arden’s Shadows. But whoever sat upon Amber’s throne in father’s absence, could warp the minds of its people about his regency in Arden in his favor or not. Because they too, were affected by his implemented rules.

Because it weren’t solidly enemies from _outside_ Arden that needed patrolling for. The creatures residing inside the forest and its Shadows could be as malicious and threatening towards the citizens of Amber. 

Selkies luring children away from their parents and drowning them in the deep lakes. Seductive fairies enchanting men and women alike, either to take away in their realm or to make them pine away for their enchanting beauty. He and his Rangers could kill them, but spilling so much of their blood would affect the very forest of Arden as well as give Amber a new enemy to deal with. 

Eric had acted before the fae decided to go beyond protecting the forests. In agreement with Queen Titiania, the prince forbade every Amberite high and low to take justice in their own hands. Trespassers from both sides would be judged by Eric and the Fae Queen respectively, if not simultaneously.

It was still a young shaky alliance and his interference was hardly met with any gratitude of Amber’s citizens. Their arrogance very so often bordered to the royal family, his warnings came on deaf ears and for the deaths of these fools they demanded their King to undo his work. 

And that was why he’d come - to convince father upon his return from Shadow why the treaty needed to hold. 

A bark took Eric out of his thoughts and the prince glanced downwards to the Weir he brought with him. “Yes, Fénrir. That is my home.” The prince replied as he spurred his horse on. Fénrir was one of the reasons why he hadn’t come by Trump. And while he much rather would have left him in Arden, Eric was emotionally linked to Fénrir, muh like how the Weir’s psyche was emotionally intertwined with his fellow brothers and sisters. If something was amiss, in any of the Shadows the Weirs patrolled in, Eric would know. As he approached the city, the prince went in a slower draft, even though the people moved quickly aside. 

The disgusted faces of the nobility did nothing to Eric - he was used to those looks all his life and the prince grinned back at them as if he were without a care in the world. His relaxed smile soon caused the common people to loosen up as well. The young girls hardly hid their giggles or flushed cheeks as they waved and Eric waved back, causing them to turn as red as his cape.

Hey, he might as well savor the attention without any of his siblings to overshadow him. Eric chuckled and spurred his horse on towards Castle Amber. After letting his horse in the stables, Eric strode towards the dinner table, picked an apple and proceeded to bite in it.

“My, I thought father had returned with all commotion in the city.” Eric glanced up, to see his sister peer from her book. 

“I didn’t know you were suddenly so eager for his return?” The prince asked as he threw a chicken wing to Fénrir, who caught it and began to tear the flesh from the bone.

“His presence, hardly. But the throne remains vacant and you boys come flocking towards it like a fly towards a light.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at Deirdre’s sarcastic comment and a smirk came upon his face. “Why, sister, what has happened that made you so cold towards the other sex?”

Deirdre returned her brother’s infuriating smirk with an ice cold stare. “I kept the nobility sweet by holding court, but I can only do so for long. Especially, and I am quoting the people here, _‘when the bastard prince is executing people left and right_ ’"

_You sure that were their words, sister?_ "Nevertheless how black and white it is put...” Eric didn’t finish his words and proceeded to take another bite. Both his siblings had the motivation to undermine his surge in popularity. “...at the end, Arden will be for the worse if the treaty does not hold.” Eric replied as the apple juice went past his chin. The prince wiped it away with a finger, before continuing, “And I doubt father will be pleased if he returns and sees you’ve made the Fae a new enemy." 

Deirdre didn’t immediately reply, letting her options roll in her head. She had indeed been fuelling the hateful rumors regarding Eric’s regency, alongside Corwin. But her alliance with her brother became strained with their different perspective of their execution thereof. While Corwin wanted to loudly voice his support to the claims of the nobility and see immediate results, Deirdre wished a more subtle approach through the courtly sessions, to keep Eric unaware and occupied in Arden. Time and time again, the princess pressured her brother to keep his patience and keep tracking down the sea routes into Shadow like dad instructed him to.Like with Eric, Deirdre also kept Corwin from returning to Amber and secured her own popularity at court. Sure, she missed out on the lessons Corwin would have otherwise given her, but it would be far more accessible when she expanded her network. 

Unfortunately, Corwin returned immediately once he heard of father’s absence and literally blew up the discussion among the nobility. The unsubtle spike of displeasure made Eric catch on, and now both her brothers were here.

A most volatile combination.

“I do not wish for that scenario to happen either,” Deirdre replied.

Eric could barely contain a smile at her words. She’d shown her displeasure about Corwin quite openly to him, and while he suspected her to have a hand in the rumors as much as his brother, she didn’t seem eager to destroy the treaty alongside his regency. “The travelling middle class through Arden has often complained to my Rangers that they want to be granted more time at court. But as of right now, the large chunk of nobility rests on Corwin’s shoulders.”

Deirdre flashed him a smile that would have made Corwin swoon. Had he been a couple years younger, then he would have caved in. “You happen to remember some of their names?”

“Ah… you know…” Eric sighed deeply, “With all this business with Queen Titiana, not to mention that so many travel through each day.. I have to think of their names.” Let the bitch grovel for the information a little while.

“Off course.” _Bastard_ , Deirdre added as an afterthought as she kept smiling to her brother.

“Eric. Welcome home.”

The younger brother began to grin for real when he saw Benedict enter. “And you as well. How are things below?” The prince asked in genuine interest to the current situation in Rebma. Benedict had been sent in for new negotiations by dad, since Moins seemed more outspoken to the tall man than the king.

Before Benedict could answer, another pair of feet approached and Eric didn’t need to look who it was. “Good morning, Corwin.” The older brother cheerfully greeted the prince with his silver rose just as he walked in the dinner room. “Did you sleep well?” It were those little greetings that just seemed to irk Corwin the most - because every day that Eric was present, was never “a good morning” to the younger brother.

“I feel like I’m still in a nightmare.” Corwin replied, casting a glare at Deirdre. 

The younger sibling merely gave a shrug as to say, “I told you so.”

“They are well.” Benedict gave the vague answer in response to Eric’s question.

Eric nodded - he had expected such an answer.

“Aside from the fact that conflicting reports are circulating around regarding your regency,” Benedict continued on as they unlocked their hands, “Which in turn does not make Queen Moins eager to be annexed by Amber with the unsteady and indecisive behavior that is shown”

“Then come to see for yourself to discover which reports are the truth, brother. It has been too long since we went out hunting together.”

“Sometime,” Benedict nodded as they all seated themselves at the breakfast table, “Unfortunately I will be far too busy with upholding the regency here in Amber till father returns.” Something dark flashed in Benedict’s eyes and everyone present winced. They knew how much Benedict loathed to take up the regency and now blamed them of the loss of his freedom. 

“So the negotiations with Queen Moins will be conti-?” Corwin quietly began to ask,

“No.” 

Again, everyone winced at the tone of Benedict’s voice, which sufficiently crushed any ambition. For a couple of seconds, only the ticking of their forks and knives could be heard. 

“How were the negotiations with Queen Titiana?” Corwin threw suddenly in. 

“They went well as you can gather by the treaty,” Eric shortly replied.

“Let me rephrase it,” Corwin rolled his eyes, “How is she? If one of us is going to hunt in Arden, I’d like to know who we are dealing with.”

“Her majesty will not care, lest you step in a fae ring. Overstepping any boundary of her realm will cost you dearly.” Eric said while meeting Corwin’s eyes. 

“My… ‘her majesty’,” Corwin mocked Eric’s tone, “You mention the Fae Bitch with such respect, one would think you gave your loyalty to another liege than our own father.”

“You should speak with more respect about Queen Titiana, for your very mother came from her court.” Benedict intervened before Eric could slip something back.

All of Faeilla’s children blinked in shock at this information.

“Our mother was fae?! How come we were never told about this?” Deirdre finally demanded.

“You never asked,” Benedict frowned as he wiped his mouth, “and I presumed you already knew.”

“Brother, allow me to take up the offer that Benedict declined.” Corwin said with a sparkle in his eyes as his body turned towards his older sibling.

Eric proceeded to slowly bite on his toast to hide his anger. He didn’t like this one bit. Arden was _his_. No other sibling had any business there, unless he granted them passage. Especially Corwin, who has his ways of ruining things at the most inconvenient times-! Just when Eric opened his mouth, Benedict beat him to it.

“Yes, it has been far too long for you two.” The tall warrior casually said at Corwin - too casually. 

  
  


Eric grumbled and gave a sharp nod, while Corwin turned to their sister. “And what of you, Deirdre? You wish to join?”

“I’m glad you thought of me, but I have to sadly decline. The library suits me better than the hunt.” Deirdre shook her head, before standing up and giving both her brothers a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun!”

-()-

“I thought she’d be thrilled to find out more about our mother.” Corwin voiced as they refilled their flasks, “And be most eager to come along with us.”

Eric shrugged, “She has her own separate interests from ours,” the older prince said before taking a drink, “and what one never had, one can never miss, I believe.” 

A hum escaped Corwin’s lips and silence fell for a couple of heartbeats. “Mother ever said anything about her past to you?” the young man asked as he kept looking ahead to the river.

She was there, and that was enough for Eric. At least, it _seemed_ enough till Deirdre was born. “No,” Eric merely said as he stood up. He had never talked to Corwin about their mother, because their father had never done so. It had become a closed off, forbidden topic in the castle for months. And because a wailing brother at your doorstep every night became increasingly more difficult to feel pity for when you were grieving yourself. _“Man up,”_ he’d say as he shoved and kicked his brother out of his room, _“You are an embarrassment to our mother’s memory.”_

“You are her oldest son. Did you love her so little that you can’t remember anything?!” Corwin spat at him, finally allowing Eric to see his flushed cheeks and teary eyes. 

“Oh I remember much. I remember her hours on the bed, trying to deliver her third child. She begged father to save her child instead of her. And father flat out refused, saying he would put her before the child because “there would be more children of hers to come”. If she so badly wanted to die for this child, she would have to offer something in return for selfishly leaving him behind. And so it was that my permanent illegitimacy was born alongside Deirdre.” Eric let out a shuddering breath, before continuing, “I should hate mother for giving up my legitimacy; hate Deirdre for her mere existence. In the end though, mother didn’t back away from her choice and the consequences that came with it. And as for Deirdre… it is hard to even be angry at her.”

Corwin chuckled and nodded at this, before adding, “I did not know about father using your claim to the throne as a bargaining chip for Deirdre’s life. With the knowledge our mother was Fae… It makes sense for her - their kind can never resist to make a deal, or so I have heard.”

Eric hummed and looked at the stance of the sun. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

The two brothers mounted their horses and continued on for several hours. Deeper and deeper they went, untill Eric gasped and halted his horse. “Corwin!” For a moment, the prince had mistaken the white figure for the Unicorn, but after the initial shock, Eric saw the antlers upon his head. 

A white stag.

“Gorgeous,” Eric heard Corwin breathe out and he merely nodded, keeping his eyes upon the stag. 

The stag ticked once, twice upon the stone, staring to both the brothers, before it sprinted off into the thicket. 

“Yah!” Corwin had spurred on his horse, with Eric close behind him. Always the stag was far ahead, very so often dissappearing from sight, causing even Fénrir to loose the stag, before his shimmering white skin appeared once more to show them the way. Untill -

“Where did it go?!”

The two slowed their horses to a standstill, while Fénrir sniffed around on the ground. They glanced all around them, but the stag seemed to have vanished in thin air. The only thing present, were a very familiar circle...

“Look there, a Fae ring.” The prince pointed and stood up his stirrups, causing Corwin to twist his neck. 

“Alright, now what?” Corwin said as he dismounted his horse alongside Eric,” We cross it?” Corwin asked while walking towards the mushrooms, when Eric stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

“Ho, no no no!” The elder said, “We stay right here.”

“Then how did you meet with her last time?”

“By staying on our respective sides. Titiana does not seem keen to cross her borders, and neither was I. Never has an Amberite gone to the Fae realm and come back to tell what he has seen.”

Corwin didn’t reply, unsheathed his saber and slowly reached out with his weapon till it crossed the ring of mushrooms. Nothing. No pull, no flash, no Fae. “And you would not know the equivalent of a doorbell for these?”

“They love singing.” Eric flatly replied, staring directly to Corwin, “especially if its an original song.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, don’t look at me, you are the poet out of us two!”

“I can’t just think of a song,” Corwin snapped his fingers together, “in a second! I need a quiet space to be inspired!”

“Oh Unicorn!” Eric muttered as he cast his eyes to the twilight sky above.

“Keep your commentary to yourself and let me think!” Corwin snapped before distancing himself from Eric, muttering words and tapping his fingers on his pants. 

The elder prince merely shook his head and seated himself against the back of a tree, listening to Corwin, who’s words slowly began to turn into sentences:

“We’re wandering alone on midsummers night

searching for music strange to hear

Allow us to pass during the moon so bright

And let the veil disappear, to meet us here.

In a clearing we wish to find

A fabulous banquet, a fairy ball

After we close our eyes and open our mind

Allow the veil to dissappear and let us see it all"

No sooner had the two brothers blinked, they came to see thousands of little wisps light up the thick forest. 

“The veil has faded and you shall see

That a mushroom circle of red and white

And myriad fairies surround thee”

““We wish to speak to Queen Titiana” Corwin spoke as he looked at the ring of mushrooms, that had begun to glow vibrantly in the night. “She’ll grant us safe passage?”

“Come and follow, princes, no need to fear of your stay!

You may leave whenever you say!”

“Alright then.” Corwin glanced at Eric, who loosened Werewindle on his belt.

"Fénrir, go and return to camp after we've not come out after 2 hours," Eric ordered the Weir, before the two entered into the Fae realm. Immediately, the colors became so bright, the two brothers had to halt and blink several times to adjust. And the smell! You could practically taste the nectar in your mouth from the flowers they passed by.

The shimmering lights went ahead, to show the princes the way - and after pulling back the overhanging leaves of a willow tree, they stood in a clearing, where Fae seemed to perform a dance for the woman seated on a carved out throne from a dead oak. They all stopped, curious about the new arrival.

“Welcome, Eric of Amber. Did you miss my company so much you wished to visit me in my own realm?” Corwin’s green eyes seemed dull compared to Titiana’s. Her colored skin had an almost golden glance to it, and her dark hair made the crown of leaves and blooming flowers stand out all the more.

“I did, your majesty.” Eric smiled and gave a nod - princes of Amber do not bow to those of Shadow, but a nod was given instead if they felt like they should show respect.

“Though it was not your voice that peaked the interest of my subjects. Who is your companion at your side?”

“Corwin of Amber, m’lady.” Corwin came forward with a dashing smile, “Eric’s brother. Both of us came to know of our mother-”

“Known as Faeilla Silverbow, to be part of your court before she wed Oberon.” Eric interjected to take the driving wheel once more in his grasp. “We hoped you could tell us more about her, concerning her time here at court. And in term get to know her in a new light.”

Titiana smiled at him. “I’m glad her sons are showing interest in her heritage. But to get to know her, we need to go to a time long before your mother was born.” Titiana waved her hand, and the music as well as the dancing began anew. “When the Pattern and your father were still young, he created a Shadow for his own, Vyraj, of which I was a part of. Our marriage was passionate, in every way. Fights occured as often as the pleasures of the flesh, but it didn’t aid in conceiving a child of his. So, I decided to adopt a child for my own.

Oberon, off course was none too pleased with it. A child of ours, or nothing at all, he said.” Titiana let out a huff, “So when I stayed adamant to keep the adopted children for my own, he sprinkled a love potion in my eyes when I was asleep, and when I woke up I was too overwhelmed by its effect to object he took the children with him.” And Titiana went on, telling how Oberon killed the Changelings she loved so; the rude awakening and the shame for acting so outwardly with Bottom; her scattered reputation for the other Fae and eventually, their divorce.

“Yes, yes, that is all very nice,” Eric said irritated at her overlong explanation, “but we came here for our mother -”

“Patience is such a precious gift to the young and reckless,” Titiana sweetly interrupted as she pushed Eric back in his chair, “That you have yet to receive.” Titiana’s eyes wandered off, and Eric followed her gaze, towards the dancing Fae. “Eventually, Oberon wished for another who was able to bear him children, and he found that wish in many women. I can not remember their names, for he was changing like the wind. He seemed to find peace with Cymnea-” Titiana darkly chuckled at the mention of Benedict’s mother. “Ah, proud Cymnea, thinking she was the first to ever win Oberon’s heart, the first to ever grant him children. And so she boasted and I heard. Oh I heard very clearly. And Oberon off course, needed to repay what I lost. So, I stole their children and gave Cymnea two identical looking Changelings. You can imagine what happened on the day they walked the Pattern. Oberon thankfully could see the fun in my little joke whereas Cymnea could not.”

Corwin glanced at Eric, who seemed to be in a daze. “Brother, are you listening?” The younger sibling asked and when he gained no response, Corwin snapped his fingers in front of Eric’s eyes.

“Hm?” Eric’s eyes gained some clarity and his eyes once more focused on the Fae Queen. “Do forgive me for seeming disinterested. It was not my intent.”

Titiana kept smiling and Corwin’s hairs began to stand on end when he felt something ripple off her. It smelled sweet and inviting - but so could the Belladonna look inviting. “You’ve had your tale, now tell us about-” Corwin demanded, when Titiana interrupted once again.

“Yes, yes, I will get to it.” Titiana laughed as she ruffled through Corwin’s hair, “We have all the time in the world.”

All the time in the wo- Just how long had they actually stayed here?! At that thought, Corwin shuddered and went to reach for Eric’s shoulder, when Titiana’s eyes made him pause. 

“All the time in the world, my sweet princes, all the time in the world,” Titiana whispered as Corwin’s green eyes too began to loose their clarity. The Fae Queen droned on, telling how she raised Osric and Finndo as her own and turned against their parents. In all their years, the queen knew how she could drive Oberon just before his breaking point and she halted her desire to keep on pestering after Osric’s and Finndo’s failure. “So, He scattered Vyraj across Arden and made it so I could never leave, lest I wished to have the time difference age me to dust.” Titiana shrugged, “It was fine by me - I am allowed to rule the Fae, like I have for millenia, and despite his happy marriage to Cymnea, it didn’t stop him from returning for a good fuck every once a while with me, or one of my court. What comes around, comes around, so for things to be truly in balance, I had Oberon undergo the same potion as I once had… and upon his awakening, he looked into the eyes of Faeilla, your mother...”

“Are you imploying… I mean, Implying... that our mother... went - came - from our father’s se -” Eric tried to speak, but it seemed his tongue had difficulty to pronounce, and his mind could not come up with words.

“We Fae change like the wind when it comes to our emotions - so too for our preferred lovers. I can not say for certain.” Titiana said as she turned the princes towards the dancing circle. 

“You are kind… for your hospitality and your story,” Corwin began to stand up and tugged Eric upright, “Now if you be so kind to show us the way out-” HIs legs and hands were sleeping though, and after a couple of steps, the prince stumbled, losing his balance.

“I will, sweet prince, once I am certain you do not hurt yourself,” Titiana cooed as she kept the princes from falling, “Please, let my people guide you back.” With a little push, the two brothers were guided towards two approaching fairies.

“No… no, wait that is not… nesary - necessary,” Corwin tried to object. Somewhere, in his foggy mind, the prince felt it was extremely dangerous to take their hands. Eric had no such hesitation - he immediately grabbed one of the fae’s hands and danced along.

“Come, sweet princes, come and play

In a magical circle, a fairy ring

You don’t yet need to leave, so enjoy your stay

In our land of forever spring!”

Corwin felt his feet move and his mind relax as the singing fairy took him by the shoulder and cupped his cheek, guiding him inside the fae circle.

“Eric, my sweet?”

“Hm?” In a daze, Eric glanced to the Fae Queen, who now began to dance around him. 

“You happen to have set your Weirs on my kind?”

The prince frowned. “No, m’lady, I never did.” Eric gasped when Titiana suddenly appeared in front of him - her face morphed and twisted.

“I’d appreciate if you do not lie to me.”

“No, m’lady, no… I’d never-” Eric went mute when Titiana put her hands at his temples, and everything vanished. He could hear them howl now and it was not only for him.

Utter cold fear washed over him, paralyzing him literally to the core. One, no three of his wolves had died in the same horrifying fashion against a foe they could not comphrehend - only that it was not human, that it seemed almost like literal fear they had tried and failed to fight off.

Eric felt each of their deaths now and he cried - as hard and long as he had wept for his own mother. 

“You did not know.” Titiana examined his reaction, seeing his shock was true, and proceeded to wipe his tears away. “Go along and forget your pain, sweet prince. Go and dance-”

-Come, sweet princes, come and dance

Spin in a circle as fast as light

Once you begin you are caught in a trance

While the outside world grows old in a single night!”

They could hear what they sang, but their feet could not stop as much as they wished for it. The music was in their ears, their laughter was like the sweetest honey, and faster, faster they danced.

“CEASE YOUR DANCING!”

The brothers gasped and collapsed like rag dolls on the grass - it was as if they were plunged in a freezing lake and they wheezed as they tried to move their throbbing feet and arms to get up.

Still delirious, Eric managed to turn his head, to see Oberon marching forwards Titiana with the Jewel of Judgement pulsing on his chest. The summer had made way to autumn in an instant; leaves fell and whisked about the two. Deirdre was there too, who hurried to her brothers once she deemed it safely enough to check on them.

“Fae, skip hence,” The Fae did as their queen commanded, leaving the clearing with the mushroom ring cold and empty. “Why suddenly so jealous of your sons to come here? Are you regretting that you left my bed for another? They crossed willingly and therefore, they no longer belong to you. I will not part with them.” Titiana never wavered her green eyes from the King of Amber as she spoke, and her slim fingers went across his arm.

“I am still Lord of all Shadow, so its my right to take from yours what I please.” Oberon pushed away her arm and gripped her wrists, pushing her against one of the many trees. “You’ve had your fun with my boys. Now they will return with me.” Oberon looked upwards, to see a fae hold a very familiar flower above him, with drips of nectar ready to fall into his eyes. Oberon but moved his head and the fairy screamed when a sudden wind blew her to the right and upon the ground. The flower was forgotten by everyone, including the fallen fairy who sought medical assistance, as they were focused on the conversation between Oberon and Titiana. No one noticed a hand grabbing it closer and putting it in a purse.

Titiana pouted at his words. “And am I not your wife? What am I to be left with?” 

“I shall grant you a boy - any boy but my sons - to adopt as your son and eventual heir.”

Titiana thought of his proposal and nodded. “But he has to have blond hair, blue eyes and between 13-15 years” Titiana added.

“Anything else?” Oberon grumbled annoyed at the for him minor details. 

“Yes. He has to have a wipping nose and slender fingers. No donkey ears. Very, very important.” Titiana seriously continued on with her list, seeing the king’s eyes turn increasingly more dark. “I would be so… grateful to the Lord of Shadows.” The Fae Queen breathed at him, “and show my devotion in every way he desires if he brings me such a marvelous gift.” Titiana moved closer and gave Oberon a quick kiss. 

The King of Amber stayed stoic under her gesture and grabbed her by the back of her neck, so she was forced to lift her chin. “It will be your last to receive,” Oberon coldly stated, “for if you pull something like this again, I’ll let this entire realm collapse on itself.”

Titiana’s smile turned as cold as frost at his words, “You’d miss these conversations too much to go through with your threats, Oberon.”

Oberon didn’t reply, released Titiana from his vice grip and walked towards his still recovering sons. Silently, the king heaved Eric up his broad shoulder, while Deirdre did the same with Corwin. “Bring your brother back to the castle,” Oberon finally said as they crossed from the Fae Realm into Arden. “I need a word with the bastard.”

Deirdre, nearly as pale as Eric, nodded and proceeded to put Corwin on her horse. After the princess mounted her horse and galloped away, only the king and Eric were left behind. 

“How… How long were we-?” 

“3months. Now drink.” Oberon harshly pushed the flacon into Eric’s numb hands. The prince hastily took a couple of gulps, the alcohol searing through his lungs. Coughing, the man returned it to his father. “I should have allowed Titiana to let you stay in return for Corwin.”

That had also gone through Eric’s mind.

“But it wouldn’t have been a punishment to you to stay,” Oberon continued on as he heaved Eric up by his neck. “And those Weirs of yours did not wish to listen to Benedict or Deirdre.”

“Geri, Freki, Hati..” Eric voiced, “Titiana demanded and could… feel the link I have - had with them. It was as if they literally lashed out and died from fear.” And was it him, or did the shadows in Arden seem darker and less inviting than he remembered?

“Seek out why instead of amusing yourself with dance and so-” Oberon’s sentence was unfinished when Eric suddenly gasped and stumbled upon the ground. “Get up.”

The pain he had experienced in Titiana’s realm was like standing in the shade - now, he was getting the full blast. The prince yelled in agony, trashing all around him as if he tried to fight off the pain. And when Oberon kept his arms locked on the ground by his knees and looked into Eric’s eyes, he saw that they had become the wolf’s. The king firmly held his son’s head, but could not see through the thick pain. 

“Use your head! Use the Pattern!” Oberon ordered, and some clarity came to Eric’s eyes. 

Use the Pattern, to See everything in order. Slowly, Eric began to bring the Pattern in front, separating the all-compassing pain from the memory, and focusing only on the rational observations. What he felt, was still the same. It was cold, dark and silver-white like the moon. Sometimes like a ghost, sometimes as solid as rock and its eyes glowed like crystals. It was gleeful with what he wrought upon Freki, because what he gained was power. It showed its canine teeth and -

With a gasp, Eric returned in his own body just when the teeth snapped shut. 

“Tell me what you saw.”

The prince tried several times, but his body and mind had become numb and empty. Going from the warm and joyous fog in Titiana’s realm to the nightmarish creature, was too much to handle for his psyche and Eric slumped unconscious. 

-()-

Eric sighed, feeling the cushions and matrass under his recovering body. It felt good, to keep his eyes shut to stay in that pleasant in-between of being awake and asleep.

“I thought you’d never wake up,” Deirdre said when she saw Eric slowly open his eyes. Bringing the tray of bread and cheese to his table, the princess proceeded to sit and take some of the leftover breakfast for her own. “There is enough for two, you know.” Deirdre nodded and gave the tray a little push in Eric’s direction, who launched on the meal like a starving man. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“More than that,” Eric said in-between bites. “How did father find us?”

Deirdre slurped from her coffee before putting it back on the tray, “After you two left, everything continued as usual. Benedict and I believed you two to be in one of Arden’s time-differentiating Shadows, and so we did not think about your whereabouts till father’s actual return. Due to certain developments, he did not notice your absence yet.”

“What ‘certain developments’?” Eric interrupted before Deirdre could continue.

His sister let out a frustrated sound and waved her hand, “Benedict’s negotiations with Moins did not go as well as father hoped.” 

Eric narrowed his eyes at her. Being away from Amber so long, meant she now held the most power when it came to information. “And what about the nobility and their view about Arden?” Eric demanded, hating the fact that he had to literally squeeze everything out of his sister’s lips.

Deirdre flashed him a smile, “Those who were heard by me, have come to see reason in your laws. Just as father saw reason by me not to kill your Weirs the moment he heard some of them attacked the Fae. They were most useful to track your scent.” 

Eric grimaced - not only because of how much he was in debt to his sister, but also due to heaving himself up. “And what will happen now?” To his regency, his place at court?

“You get yourself dressed,” Deirdre replied as she took the tray with her, “Unless you wish that I watch you strip?”

Eric glared at her and did not reply.

“Come on, don’t be so squeamish,” Deirdre huffed at him while walking towards the doorway,”I saw everything of you two when we were children! It ain’t much.”

THOCK! Eric’s dagger stuck into the doorframe, just as his giggling sister left around the corner. Unicorn, since when had she gained so many notes on her tablet?!

-()- 

Deirdre watched her still shaken siblings enter and watched their faces crunch in confusion at the redhaired woman and her two children. “Lady Clarissa, Bleys, Fiona... allow me to introduce you to my brothers, Eric and Corwin.”

“Who of these two is the bastard again, Deidee?” the little boy blurted out as he looked back and forth to Corwin and Eric. 

“That would be me,” With a grin, Eric immediately marched forward and crunched so he was at eye-level of the 8 year old boy, who seemed much more interested in Werewindle. “You like this?” When Bleys’ head bobbed up and down, Eric chuckled. “You’ll have to eat and train a lot before you can wield such a weapon.”

“Oh, but Deidee is already training me,” Bleys’ flashed a toothy grin at Eric’s sister.

“Is she now?” While Corwin gave his reserved greetings to Bleys, Eric glanced at his sister who returned him an innocent smile.

“Yes, he proves to be a great student.” Deirdre answered. She knew, the moment Clarissa arrived with her children, she had to make use of the absence of her brothers. Bleys was an enthusiastic, energetic and attention starving kid. For some reason less looked after by Clarissa than Fiona. One would think to put all attention to their male firstborn to get him to exceed his older half-brothers. That on itself was wildly curious to Deirdre as well as frightening. Fiona wasn’t the type to wield a sword or form a battle strategy. Whatever she seemed to have, Deirdre was sure to find out in time.

Bleys could prove to be the key to said information. Deirdre offered Clarissa to teach the boy the ways of the sword and to her surprise Clarissa allowed her, possibly feeling relieved of her never tiring child. In return, Deirdre merely asked the future queen to get access to more advanced battle strategy lessons. The princess knew she could not ask too much of the future queen, not yet at least, till her place upon the throne was secure by marriage and not let Clarissa suspect anything else but a kind gesture towards her son.

It was good she had moved so cautiously, for Clarissa’s paranoia was equal to the blood of Amber, and deemed her no threat - an attention starving girl, much like her son, without any potential or actual power.

The princess was glad she was not granted the regency of Arden. While Clarissa may be a formidable queen to come, she was not of the blood like she was. She was Oberon’s first born daughter, and had always been more approachable to women and children than her towering and stoic brothers. She was such a darling to the children and walked with such poise, and such help to the elderly- Deirdre eagerly sucked the words of praise that she had never received from her father and only began to mingle more in their ranks instead of the castle.

Combined with her listening ear to the woes of the lower class, Clarissa would have to pull one hell of a stunt to take her followers from her.

"I'm so glad to finally meet Deirdre’s brothers." Clarissa spoke this time, “And that they are here finally celebrate alongside their sister for my marriage to your father. it is my wish we might get along with one another. I can’t replace your mother and I do not intend to do so -”

“Your attempts would be futile to replace her anyway,” Corwin muttered lowly to himself. Or at least he thought so - the silver and black clothed prince felt a pair of eyes on him and glanced to his right, to see his new sister Fiona glance at him over the corners of her book. The redhaired girl, unlike Bleys, had somehow found it beneath her to greet them and stayed where she were. “What are you looking at?”

“The blockage that prevents me from properly reading my book,” Fiona chided as if she were the elder instead of Corwin, and nodded at the shade that Corwin caused over her.

Eric chuckled at her reply, while Corwin saw the chair in front of him and imagined its collision against the girl’s snobby face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Titiana and Oberon's argument scene in "Midsummer night dream" makes me crack up every time and I could not resist to tweak Shakespeare's dialogue to the situation.  
> Corwin, having embraced his mothers heritage the most, was able ro resist Titianas spell the longest. Whether their mother was indeed born of Titiana and Oberon, I wanted to leave it in the middle. 
> 
> If you know your mythology, you know who Eric's Weirs are named after. If not:  
> Fénrir or Fenris Wolf is one of Loki's three children by Angrboda. Said to grow so big that the gods had to bind him. Prophesized to kill Odin at Ragnarok.  
> Geri and Freki are Odin's companions, much like how the ravens Huginn ("Memory") and Muginn ("Thought") are.  
> Hati ("he who hates") is one of Fénrirs sons, who hunts down the moon, while his brother Sköll ("He who mocks") hunts down the sun. At Ragnarok they succeed in eating their prey. 
> 
> I also wanted to provide some reason as for why Osric and Finndo opposed Oberon - a "joke" to Titiana to put changelings in their cribs and taking the two as their own. Fae are known to do that, especially when a woman boasts too much about the beauty of their children...
> 
> And much like in the play, who-ever sneaked the love potion from Vyraj is gonna cause some sweet glorious Chaos...
> 
> finally, finally, I got to write the introduction of the redheads. Fiona i'm still figuring out and probably won't appear that much. She's a bitch, even to try and write her mannerisms right. 
> 
> Bleys comes more easily to me - I can just picture him like kid on a sugar rush, 7/7 and 24h/24h.


	7. That merry Wanderer of the Night

A feast was given that very night in the throne room for Amber's new queen. Eric had recovered himself well from the ‘surprise’ she had kept from them. Aside from Corwin, it seemed as if nothing could waver her brother’s control over his emotions and he had accepted the redheads within the family.

Now Corwin on the other hand, couldn’t be in a starker contrast. He was pissed and he didn’t bother to hide it to anyone, preserving his darkest looks to his new brother and sister. It came to a point where Benedict stared Corwin down himself, and the black and silver clothed prince backed slightly off by burning holes in Bleys and Fiona. He now avoided the two all together, but the first impression had been set - the two avoided her brother like he was the very plague, and chose to sit closer by Eric.

That sight seemed to break the camel’s back for Corwin to go and drink himself lazarus.

"At least pretend to enjoy yourself." Deirdre hissed, embarrassed to be seated next to him, “Without any wine.” The younger sister added when Corwin went to fill his glass again.

"Unicorn, she's hardly a day here and she has bewitched you!" Corwin growled back at her as he put his glass of wine back on the table. His face was flushed, already having too much wine for tonight.

“It is a day to you. To me, i’ve come to known her for 3 months and she has not _bewitched_ me.” Deirdre replied with thin lips, getting increasingly more annoyed by his pressing behavior and view.

"Really? Because you seem awfully keen on having a mother on your own."

Deirdre gritted her teeth and Corwin took her silence as a sign he could continue. "Oh…” Corwin nodded, coming to his own conclusion, “I get it now. You killed your own mother during your delivery. It wasn't enough for you to kill her off, was it? You wanted a brand new mommy inste-" The prince stopped talking when Deirdre slammed his head on his plate. As if every move had been planned, Deirdre immediately reached out for Benedict on her left. "Brother, I have not have a dance with you yet." The princess asked sweetly.

"How forgetful of me," Benedict replied as he cleaned his mouth, before taking his sister's hand to lead her to the dance floor. As they swirled around, Benedict said, "Don’t hold his drunk and bitter comments against him for the days to come. Corwin needs time to adjust and I implore you help him cope."

It was for the first time, now that Deirdre had new siblings of her own, that she thought of how Benedict must have felt when her mother Faiella came to court and the squabbles that came from it. She could understand why he was asking her, but her influence on Corwin only reached so far through his stubbornness. "You may control war, Benedict, you can't ultimately control me or how my siblings behave towards one another," Deirdre grumbled at him, and Benedict's mouth twitched downwards.

“At least try.” Benedict urged her.

“You saw my attempt just now - If Corwin so loves to see the color of their blood, I can not and will not even try to stop his idiocy-” Deirdre began, only for her to become silent when Benedict's hands gripped her hands with far more force than necessary.

"I merely want peace." The warrior slowly replied with eyes as dark as death. "Do not presume I will hesitate if Corwin decides to draw first blood. Bleys and Fiona are as much my siblings now as you, Eric and Corwin are. Did I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

The music ended, and both siblings parted ways. Deirdre let out a shuddering breath, to relieve her body of the building tension and removed herself from the sidelines where everyone was waiting for their turn to dance. 

Her appetite for dancing had vanished much like her appetite for food. Seeing two tiny heads with red hair, Deirdre began to walk towards them, when -

“I haven’t been able to dance with you either, sister.”

“I know,” Deirdre turned around to face Eric, “but I fear I must dissappoint you, much like Benedict. I much rather prefer some fresh air over dancing on your toes at the moment.” 

“Why not?” The prince in black and red replied. When Eric offered her his arm, Deirdre took it and the two began to separate themselves from the ballroom. For a while the two let the silence grow, enjoying the light breeze on their faces and the princess looked up to see the Aurora Borealis shining above them. “You have not told me yet what information you gained about our mother.”

“Due to your refusal to go with us, I thought you weren’t interested to know.”

“Now that some answers are there, I wish to.” Deirdre replied as she turned her head to Eric, “What was she like?”

Eric sighed, leaned his forearms on the reiling and began to talk. His tale was long and his sister did not interrupted until he were finished.

“The way you speak of Vyraj, it seems to draw you towards it.” Deirdre noted. 

“Both me and Corwin,” Eric nodded at her, “were drawn by Titiana-”

“I didn’t mean it in a general sense.” Deirdre interrupted him as she stared at him, “it seems Titiana’s realm is more like a home to you than Amber does.”

“And so what? I still have responsibilities to uphold.” Eric quipped back. 

“Then renounce them, for the sake of your happiness.” Deirdre watched her older brother struggle - it clearly had been nagging at him too. “What’s holding you back from making the leap?”

“Why don’t you stay in Shadow?” Eric returned the question, “You could go and march your armies and wage war as you always wished. Why return to Amber, to a father who doesn’t support your dreams?”

Deirdre stayed guilty of an answer to his questions and her eyes blazed at the wound that Eric had ripped open.

Sensing the night of celebration would turn sour if he kept things unsaid before his return to Arden, Eric sighed, causing Deirdre to stay where she was. “I suppose…” Eric mused, “It’s something that keeps me from fully detaching from this place. Something that just…” The prince twisted his hand into a fist, “- makes me look back when I feel I’m gone too long from Amber. It’s the center of the world, and so even those in Shadow yearn for it, but it’s our roof. Our home.” Eric paused, before continuing on, “I regret meeting Titiana - for I now feel part of two worlds, and it is ripping me apart.”

“Corwin doesn’t feel that way.”

“No, he sure doesn’t,” A vague smile once more appeared on Eric’s face, “Lucky bastard.”

“Last time I checked, the only bastard here was you."

“That joke has become even staler than bread.” The prince replied in a deadpanned voice while Deirdre smothered her giggles with her hand. Perhaps it was the wine, for Eric felt his anger dissipate and the prince grinned along. 

Neither of the two noted a little redhaired boy in the shadows who had overheard their conversation. 

-()-

And so Clarissa became their queen. Things folded once more into their place. Eric returned to Arden; while both Deirdre and Corwin sporadically stayed in Amber. The “little ones” were left for their own whenever Faiella offspring went to explore Shadow, and when they returned, Bleys was awed by their stories, always racing to the basement to go and try the Pattern himself shortly after. It had become a little game of theirs.

The teenage boy soon discovered that only Deirdre were sincere in catching him. “Why do you run along when you have no intention of stopping me?” Bleys one day asked in front of the burning hearth. The very glow seemed to turn his hair into fire.

“Because it is fun to see you fail time and time again,” Corwin replied while preparing his violin. 

After his little adventure in the Fae realm, Corwin’s interest in ballads and music had almost turned into an obsession. The way the Fae seemed to entrance not only mortals, but those of the blood of Amber as well with their music, had made the prince dead-set on achieving that same state with his music. It was, after all, literally in his blood. 

Just as Corwin was about run the bow across the strings, Bleys interrupted again.

“And if Deirdre were not to catch me?” Bleys winced, as did Deirdre, when Corwin’s bow performed a screeching sound that echoed around the entire library.

“Well, then you will finally have won, won’t you?” Corwin returned the boy a predatory smirk.

Bleys narrowed his eyes at his older brother, before returning his attention once more to his little work. 

Corwin was about to start once more on his composition, when he noted that the teenager was making something. The prince put his instrument down, and Deirdre looked up from her book, to see Bleys put his newly made instrument to his lips. It were a couple of sticks, different in length, held together by rope. As the boy’s lips moved around the little gaps, the air came out in different highs and lows, mimicking Corwin’s composition.

“That is… very well made,” Corwin complimented the teenager when he was done.

“I know,” Bleys replied in all seriousness.

“May I?” Corwin reached out with his hand to try out this instrument himself.

“If I may have that fine dagger at your belt.”

Corwin glanced downwards and scowled. It was one of his favorites - beautifully crafted pummel, smooth and light to throw with. But the urge to have the instrument though… “Fine,” Corwin barked, loosening the dagger from his belt and throwing it to the teenager boy, who grinned like the devil as he passed down the instrument at Corwin.

As Corwin tried to familiarize himself with the made flute, Bleys unsheathed the dagger, turning it towards the light. Trying out a new trick Deirdre had taught him, Bleys failed, catching the dagger with its edge in his palm instead of the hilt.

“Unicorn, you’ll cut off your fingers before the next dawn,” Corwin grumbled as he took the dagger from the boy, “It ain’t a dagger to use in man to man combat, but to throw it. Like this-” The dagger flew like lightning out of Corwin’s hand and embedded itself into the wall. “You didn’t yet bother to learn him how to throw knives?” The prince demanded his sister, who innocently watched the two.

“Oh, it must have slipped my mind.” Deirdre lazily replied with a hint of a smile, while Bleys clapped in excitement.

“Again, again, show me again!” 

Even though he had promised himself not to get infatuated by their enthusiasm, Corwin felt a smile appear on his lips. “Alright. You hold the knife like this, you see?” Corwin now earnestly began to instruct the boy, showing him as slowly as he could manage, “Then you switch it, and its important you work your wrist as you begin to throw and-” The dagger flew once more, but this time, a female scream was accompanied by it. In the doorway, hardly a meter from where the dagger had embedded itself, stood the queen of Amber.

“Your majesty-” Deirdre now pushed herself out of her chair and strode to Clarissa, “Forgive us for shocking you so." The princess walked by Clarissa and wrecked the dagger out of the wall. "We thought we’d be alone for the time being and so my brother instructed Bleys on how to throw a dagger.”

“I believe there are training grounds to exercise such a skill,” Clarissa coolly replied to Corwin who put one of his hands on each of Bleys' shoulders.

“The entire palace is our training ground, m’am,” Corwin replied just as coldly, and Clarissa’s eyes flared at the lack of respect and title in his reply, “Words my brother Benedict swears by. I merely follow his example.”

“Yeah!” Bleys nodded, unaware of the rising tension between his half-brother and his mother. The teenager gulped when the queen turned her eyes on him. 

“It is way too late for a boy your age to be up.” Clarissa noted as she tried to pull Bleys out of Corwins hands. The boy wasn't able to be moved though, and after several attempts, Clarissas eyes went upwards to meet Corwins sparkling irises. Giggles began to come out of Bleys’ mouth too, at the failed attempt of his mother trying to prey him away. "And fact, it is late for every boy and girl." The queen tried to stare Corwin down.

Corwin roared so hard at her reply, he let Bleys slip from his hands, causing Clarissa to stumble backwards from the sudden lack of resistance. "Lady, I am at least twice your age!" The prince shook his head, still wiping his tears away.

"But hardly as mature." Deirdre spoke with a frown as she ushered towards Bleys to help him up. "Are you alright?"

Corwin scowled at her and saw Clarissa take the bait Deirdre offered her. "I am, thank you." Clarissa blushed for shame as she realized she had broken the most sacred rule in Amber, and heard Corwin huff. "And for that," The queen went on, "I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to Arden tomorrow?"

"I would love to, your majesty, but I would have to ask and inform my brother"

"Do so." Clarissa recollected herself, all poise and grace once more, and strode out of the room.

“I do not like this.” Corwin muttered to his sister.

“No, you do not like her,” Deirdre corrected him. “She is our queen now, and you would do better to make peace with it."

"I will make peace with it when she's in her grave in a year or so." Corwin kept his face innocent when Deirdre burned holes in his skull. "Sis, you know what I mean," Corwin went on, raising his hands in a defensive manner, "We burn through Amberite generations like nothing,-" Corwin snapped his fingers, "And she will soon be dust under our heels. I do not need to kill her when time will do it neatly for me. Go on, say I am an asshole," Corwin added when Deirdre opened her mouth, "It won't change the fact that I am right."

Deirdre didn't give her brother that satisfaction, and marched out of the library without a reply.

-()-

In Arden too, burned a fire, though not as bright as in Amber. It was already smoldering, and Eric poked in the embers to get some air in. “You’ll hurt your eyes if you keep squinting them for so long, boy.” The prince said to his squire, who was still scribbling. 

“Sorry, m’lord.” Roger quietly said, “But after this paragraph, I swear to the Unicorn, I’ll put my pencil down and I-”

“And I’ll use it to keep us warm,” Eric lowly interrupted, with a wolf-like grin. The prince saw Roger’s eyes nearly pop out and the notes were hastily put aside. “Good. Now tell me a story.” It had become a weekly routine for them - to go out of camp, away from his responsibilities and just… talk. Or listen. Unicorn knows he needs the short distraction, Eric thought to himself as he seated himself comfortably against a tree. He was so close, so damn close at catching that Puck today. He’d planned out everything for bloody months. Those little pests were quite skilled in archery and shapeshifting, so he’d orchestrated a contest for his rangers to compete to win a golden arrow, in order to catch their leader. 

It had worked… too well. The Puck or "Robin" as he had called himself, had won. Before Eric could even raise his finger, he’d snatched the prize with him, and the chase that followed could not catch the sprite, for he used every illusion imaginable to make himself one with the forest. While his rangers were searching for the "Robin under the hood", the sprite had gotten a taste of thieving and now went to rob the passing nobility in Arden. 

“My lord?”

Roger’s voice shook Eric out of his thoughts and the prince motioned him to continue the story he was on. This time, the prince shook all frustration off his mind and paid attention to his squire’s tale. He’d nearly come to the point where all his troubles vanished to the furthest corners of his mind, when a piercing Trump call broke through the illusion. “Yes?” Eric raised his hand to Roger, who immediately stopped. “Deirdre.”

“Hello, Roger. How’s your arm?” Deirdre smiled at Eric's squire she saw from the corner of her eye. 

“M’lady.” Roger's cheeks reddened from more than just the fire and the squire quickly averted his eyes. “My arm is well, thank you.”

“Your point of calling me?” Eric grumbled, causing Deirdre to turn her dazzling smile on him.

“Queen Clarissa wanted to visit Arden alongside myself, and let you be noted of her awareness in the forests.”

“Noted,” Eric shortly replied.

“Now Roger, if you want to be taught some real fencing skills, you can always-” 

Eric slammed the proverbal door shut before Deirdre could finish her sentence. Partially due to annoyance because she was trying to prey his squire from him, partially due to another presence that he felt manifest nearby. The prince had already stood up and turned to face Queen Titiana when Roger was barely on his feet, taking out his sword.

Ever since going to that particular realm, he seemed to have become more perceptive or attuned to the overall presence of the Fae, Eric mused to himself. “At ease, Roger. Lower your weapon.” The prince said without taking his eyes of the Fae Queen. She kept herself in the Fae Ring, and Eric carefully manoeuvred around so he couldn’t get within grabbing reach.

“So, Oberon has a new pet…” Titiana mused out loud as Roger did as he were told.

“Why are you here?” 

“I wished to speak to you - the news regarding Amber’s new Queen, coincidentally fits for the conversation and gift I wanted to grant you.”

“What g-” Eric began to ask, when a familiar figure came forward with a horn in hand, though staying inside the Fae Ring to offer the horn to Eric.

Eric’s eyes widened when he recognized the fairy - it was the very same who had enchanted him and pulled him into the dancing circle. "You!" She looked how most Shadows saw her kind - human-like, pointy ears, slim waist, pale skin, long blond hair and so gorgeously perfect that it made Eric almost gag. Vaguely, the prince could hear Roger’s breath stock. 

"You seemed quite taken by her during your visit and wanted to see her again. And while Oberon will never allow you to come home, I give some of home with you - my aid the moment you blow that horn.”

Eric tore his eyes away from the fairy towards Titiana. "Home?" the bastard prince echoed and failed to hide his nervosity and discomfort in his chuckle.

"Come now, Eric," Titiana cooed as if she were comforting a child, and Eric winced at her voice "You can't deny you felt… connected to us. You were conceived and born in my very realm - and therefore Fae than Amberite compared to your younger siblings."

“Fae never give something freely.” The bastard prince diverted the subject, “What’s the catch?”

Titiana's eyes glittered. "You."

"Hah, you think my loyalty so easily bought?" Eric spat at the grass.

"That is not what I ask of you," Titiana replied as Eric turned on his heel and began to turn out the fire, "I ask you make use of my gift."

Eric halted and narrowed his eyes at her for her words. Intrigued he was, and suspicious even more. "Go on."

"Those creatures that roam Arden, broke your control over your Weirs and made them attack my people." When Titiana did not gain any response, she casually went on to say, "Power is brittle without any allies. So tell me, how goes the hunting _alone_ so far?"

Erics cheeks reddened somewhat.

"What ultimately affects Amber, affects my realm-”

Eric let out a chuckle at this. "Like you pushed Osric and Finndo to affect Amber?"

Titiana’s face stayed emotionless at his accusation. "Many see us as wicked, I think the more appropriate term to describe us… is balanced. Neither wicked nor saint. Neither cruel or benevolent." Titiana paused and a smirk appeared on her lips, "I will not deny that _that_ particular case did not bring me a great deal of personal satisfaction. But regardless of personal feelings,I cause motion whenever Oberon stays constant. Both are necessary in regular dose for the very existence of Shadow - a philosophy, a lord of Shadow like yourself surely agrees with."

Eric shook his head. Unicorn, she _was_ good, he had to give her that. "And what of Queen Clarissa? Do I need to expect another changeling trick?”

"I have not yet made up my mind about the new queen. I therefore want to meet her."

"Does said meeting involve you talking _with_ her or talking _into_ her?"

For the first time, Eric managed to crack Titiana’s poker face - annoyance began to bleed through. "No, it will not be the latter, Eric. Now, what say you?"

"Say I accept your aid, does these armies of yours consist of Pucks?”

“No,” A much colder tone had appeared in Titiana’s voice, “Judging by your question, you’ve had your fair share of their trickery as well?” When Eric nodded, Titiana continued, “Know then, that I harbor them no protection let alone _love-”_ Titiana spat out the last word out like a curse, “-for I have made them outlaws of my realm. Burn them with iron, make them into a blood eagle,... You have my blessing to do with them as you please.” For a moment, the Fae Queen regarded the bastard prince, and was pleased when she saw her blood craze reflect in Eric’s eyes.

“I would love to, if not for the fact that they use their magic against me and my rangers. So I would want to change the deal you just offered me.”

Like all Fae, none could resist a new deal. Titiana’s eyes shone with curiosity. “Do tell.”

"Let my squire come to your realm, instead of a one sided gift that can easily turn sour in the future. You say you want us to be allies, then let this be a sign of trust to one another, against a common enemy.”

“Your squire?” Titiana’s eyes turned to a shell-shocked Roger. 

“He has the most intriguing stories to tell to keep boredom at bay for you,” Eric gave his little sales-pitch, “I can imagine, stuck in Vyraj for so long, you wish for new tales and songs to hear?”

Titiana pursed her lips. “And what do you want in return?”

“The fairy next to you,” Eric boldly pointed at the blonde elf next to Titiana, “She will teach me the magic of your kind, so I may bring you those sprites and honor my mother’s heritage. Both she and my squire will be returned as they are at this very moment once their services are no longer required.”

Titiana’s lips pursed and nodded to the fairy next to her. With clear disgust in her eyes, the fairy crossed the borders of her realm and stood arrogantly before Eric. “Oonagh, my lord,” Even her courtesy was hardly humbling towards him.

“Roger.. Your majesty.” Eric’s squire, who crossed the realm simultaneously like Oonagh, squeaked when Titiana forced his chin up to inspect him. 

For several seconds, the Fae Queen regarded him, before letting his chin go to face Eric, who had taken the horn from Oonagh’s hand to inspect it. “Since you took the horn, I can assume that I can meet Oberon’s new pet soon?” Titiana asked in an amused manner. To her, all the wives he had taken after her were seen as imitations or fabrications to what she and Oberon had shared so many millennia ago. 

“I never specifically agreed, as I recall,” Eric replied as he weighed the horn in his hand, “And I asked for the fairy to cross Arden. I can not help she brought the horn along, your majesty.” Eric sweetly replied. 

Titiana’s face could no longer hide her annoyance, and her lips curled in anger. “More Fae than Amberite indeed,” The Fae Queen lightly nodded in defeat.

Both the bastard prince and the Fae Queen then swore respectively on the Unicorn and Stag, to care for their new charge as if it were their own. Immediately after, the Fae Queen vanished along with Roger, leaving Eric and Oonagh next to a near cold fire.

-()-

The two didn’t speak - which was fine to Deirdre. She needed time to think, as she had done the entire night about Clarissa’s proposal to go together, on this very day. One does not simply go with another, alone, when one did not wish for answers he wanted to squeeze out privately. 

“It came to my attention that your brothers gained such… affection to these forests,” Clarissa mused as she looked around the ancient trees.

Deirdre merely nodded, as to lure the Queen out to outplay her intentions.

“How come you do not share this with them? It would only strengthen your bond.”

“It would, your grace, if I did not find the hunt displeasurable.” Deirdre kept her face passive when Clarissa’s eyes settled on her.

“I recalled you willingly joining your brother in battle once. How is it you can enjoy that, while not the other?”

Deirdre chuckled at her question. “I do not find the hunt displeasurable because of the blood, I find it displeasurable because it’s mundane. I do not want to be like the majority” Deirdre glanced at Oberons wife. "With your permission, I can show Bleys Arden tomorrow. The boy shows great interest in these matters and a change of scenery would do well for his curious mind."

"Bleys will start his lessons with Dworkin tomorrow."

Deirdre pretended to soothe her horse so Clarissa could not read her face. Damn it, she shouldn’t have pressed! "Oh?" Deirdre let out as she turned her eyes once more to Clarissa, "I did not notice his interest lay in the more esoteric kind,” 

“My side of the family were gifted therein - it would be a shame for Bleys not to embrace his heritage.”

 _You mean, it would be shameful for you if Bleys did not embrace his heritage_ , Deirdre thought to herself. “At such an age it is hard to be appreciative of the past, when you are so wondrous about the very present,” Deirdre carefully replied, “I’m sure Bleys will be more open, once he has understood oneself, his desires and dreams.” But even during her answer, Deirdre saw Clarissa’s eyes harden. No, she would be swayed to the idea of postponing Dworkin’s lessons for the boy.

“Children always need a guiding hand of their parents to know what’s best for them,” Clarissa craned her head at the princess, “Your mother died while she gave life to you - is that why you refuse to follow your brothers to the forest?”

Deirdre felt her cheeks redden, “Even though I have never known my mother, I know who she was. Who I am. What I do with her memory, is only for me to decide.”

Sudden laughter interrupted the increasingly tense conversation between Deirdre and Clarissa, and the two women looked up to see a little Fae chuckle upon one of the many tree branches. 

_“And sweet princess decided to do nothing, nay, nay, while her brother goes off for a deal with the Queen of the Fae!”_

Deirdre narrowed her eyes at the Fae, but it was hard to make him out - his green vest made him like a blur amidst the leaves, and his face was covered with a hood. “Instead of singing and hanging about, why not come down to talk with us?”

Clarissa let out a little squeal when the Fae dropped down right in front of her and proceeded to take her hand. “What the- let me go!” The Queen snapped and yanked her hand free from him. It took her a moment to realize that the little creature had also masterfully taken off her wedding ring. “Give it back right away, or I’ll let you be flogged so hard you’ll have no skin left!” Clarissa threatened.

“Your majesty, he meant no disrespect,” Deirdre quickly intervened when the sprite’s twinkling eyes were replaced by a cold scowl. “Fae love everything shiny, don’t you… little Puck?” The princess addressed the Fae by its more specific race, and the hostile demeanor of the Puck diminished somewhat.

_“Yes, yes, that is my name, princess from under-the-mound, I can not resist anything shiny above the ground!”_

“When you are kind to them, they’ll be kind to you,” Deirdre quickly addressed to the Queen of Amber, so she wouldn’t dwell on the way the Puck had called her, before turning once more to the Puck. “If my memory serves me well, you love our food. You want some bread and milk?” Deirdre pulled some of their resources out of her saddle bag and gave it to the Poucka, whose face had nearly returned to its original friendly face. 

The two watched as the little Fae ate his belly full, and Clarissa took the opportunity to snatch back her ring while the sprite wasn’t looking. Almost immediately, the Puck stopped eating and glanced to his purse, before turning his fuming eyes towards the Queen of Amber. _“You took while I was eating - I thought a queen to be patient, except she’s cheating!”_

Clarissa didn’t reply to his accusation. “You got your bread and milk, now its only fair I get my ring back!” The woman said as she began to walk backwards, clutching her ring into her palm.

The Puck seethed, and his eyes sparkled with rage and misschief. _“I did not say when I will return it to your hand. Are you so cold you leave nothing for the poor and needy of this land?”_

“We are le-”

“Clarissa!” Deirdre hissed and pulled at the queen’s shoulder. Irritated the queen glanced at her, only for her gaze to follow upwards. There were dozens of his kind, hidden in the trees and bushes, armed with bow and arrow, and all wearing a hood keeping the two women from seeing their faces. 

_“If you do not wish to give one ring, we’ll take off everything.”_ The Puck now had his own bow loaded, with the shiny golden arrow ready to fire. 

-()-

“What is it, prince?” The elf asked when Eric stopping mid-sentence, “What is going on?”

The prince raised his hand to her to try and make her stop talking, “Someone calls me. Be off.” Eric commanded her.

“I ain’t your servant. Are you regretting leaving that squire behind?”

“No, I find it regrettable you’re so talkative.”

Oonagh chuckled at his response and flew off, letting one of her wings brush against Eric’s head. “Yes?” The prince asked as he allowed the call to finally break through. Immediately Eric’s mood turned even more sour, for both Corwin and Deirdre were present. The most infuriating thing being among the elder siblings, was that HE was the first one to receive all their whining and be forced to listen to them.

His sister looked dishevelled, bruised and cuts were visible upon her forehead and her neck. So it was that Eric immediately asked her instead of his brother, who looked about ready to burst. “What happened to you?”

“Puck and his… ‘merry men’ were so kind as to steal me and Clarissa empty.”

That little - Eric held his Trump so tightly upon hearing the name, that he feared it might break. The sprite slowly but surely made him a laughing stock to everyone in Amber, but he could not allow himself to show how much the little sprite personally affected him. “There is something called a ‘sword’ that helps to thwart them off, you know.” Eric casually replied, causing his sister’s eyes to light up.

Corwin spoke up this time instead of Deirdre. “As the warden of that very forest, you should have dealt with this... this Robin Hood a long time ago!” 

“I have far more to worry about than just a couple of Fae thieves!” Eric bit back at his brother.

“Like the deal you made with Queen Titiana?” Deirdre bluntly asked and carefully watched the reaction of her brother.

“Where did you hear such a thing?” Eric kept his face as blank as possible under his sister’s gaze.

“It does not matter where it came from, what matters is whether it’s true or not.” 

A long silence passed between the three, before Eric finally nodded. For once, the prince decided not to keep lying. He had not made up his mind yet on who was the lesser evil of the two Queens and he wanted to see where his siblings stood at the moment. Corwin, he sensed, had begun to take a liking for Bleys... “Titiana overheard me speaking to you via Trump, the other night. It never bodes well to lie to the Fae, so I told her of dad taking a new wife. Titiana seemed keen to meet our new Queen, but I have given neither an agreement nor a refusal as of now.”

“Everything has two sides...What did she offer you in return for bringing Clarissa to her?” Deirdre asked and began to press against Eric’s barriers, only to be met by an impenetrable wall.

“Nothing of importance to me.”

Corwin all the while had silently watched his two siblings converse. It seemed too coincidental, that Eric had a meeting, quite possibly an arrangement with the Fae Queen, only for Deirdre to go the forest the day afterwards with Clarissa. Eric had chosen his words all too careful, and his sweet sister seemed all too eager to paint Eric black. Normally he would have lost himself in said activity, had it not been for a sudden, scary thought. 

“I’m off to bed,” Corwin said. Before his siblings could catch it from his mind, Corwin broke contact with the Trump by detaching his hand from Deirdre’s shoulder.

“What’s gotten into him?” Eric voiced softly to his remaining sibling.

“He’s become more moody as of late.” Deirdre shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention back to Eric. “Say, Clarissa would have hypothetically gone to meet Titiana.. would you have watched, should the Fae pull her in?”

“It all depends on the situation beforehand”

“I see.” Deirdre slowly replied, overthinking Eric’s words.”Good-by, Eric.”

“Good-by, Deirdre”

-()-

“Enter!”

Corwin winced when he heard his father’s booming voice call out after his knocking. The king preferred the library over his very own suite, as it was the very heart of activity in the castle. While their own rooms were well enough to do one’s paperwork aside from sleeping, when one had the entirety of Shadow to choose from, it felt confined for them all.

“Corwin,” Oberon looked up for a second, nodded and went on scrabbling on a decree or whatnot. 

“Father,” Corwin greeted him and turned his head towards the staggering bookshelves. While he could make use of the servants to return the books to its original place, the prince preferred to wander around and in the meanwhile look for one he hadn’t yet read. There was nothing like finding a freshly, unopened book out of Shadow. The prince let his fingers glide across the wood, searching for the alphabetic order and muttering to himself.

“BE, BE…”

“It’s two shelves to your left, three above you,” His father’s voice suddenly broke the comfortable silence. 

“Ah.” Corwin walked towards the right shelf, moved the ladder, climbed on it and placed the books back in its original place. It was out of habit that the prince jumped the entire distance, instead of climbing his way back, and sheepishly met his father’s irritated eyes. “Dad?” Corwin voiced, just as those eyes began to move to his paperwork. “There is something…” Corwin’s sentence trailed off and he shook his head. His father was far too busy now. 

“What ‘something’?” Oberon demanded as he put his pencil down and now turned his full attention to his son.

“It’s about… your new wife. It may be phantoms that I see, but…this marriage seems only wanted from your side. She and Deirdre spend a lot of time together. And then there is…the matter of the bastard. Eric and Queen Titiana seem to have come to some kind of agreement, the specifics I do not know.”

“What are you saying?” 

His father wanted him to say it out loud. Corwin took a deep breath. “Neither your previous wife or your current one seem to be that fond with you. They might find it beneficial to make an alliance and use both the bastard and my sister to get to you… sir.” Oberon’s eyes didn’t waver from his and the silence after his speech stretched long to the point where it became uncomfortable. 

“That was all?” The king finally asked.

Corwin’s head bobbed up and down several times. “Yes. That was all.” And just as the prince turned on his heel, Oberon called him again.

“It is the first time that I see you go out of the library without any literature.”

“Oh.” Corwin glanced downwards to his empty hands, almost in wonder, before letting them drop to the side. “Right.” He couldn’t decide whether his father were teasing or whether he was serious and so Corwin kept his face formal as he walked once again past his father. He let his eyes wander for several minutes, before finding something to his liking. “Good-night, father.”

“Good-night, Corwin.”

-()-

Corwin expected Clarissa and the redheads to be thrown on the streets, the very next day. But no. Much to Corwin's surprise and annoyance, father kept them around even as the tension between the queen and king of Amber became seen by all as the months progressed. 

Clarissa’s children had become quieter, at least Fiona had. While Bleys never lost his smile and sought to be the light of every party, much to his mother’s increasing chagrin, his eyes told a different story, depending on whether he had to go to Dworkin’s lessons. More often than not, Bleys sneaked out and sought company with his older siblings.

Eric however, was much more occupied than ever with overseeing the borders of Arden. Benedict was off in Rebma, negotiating with Moins as well as try befriending little Moire. Deirdre was close to Clarissa, and Bleys didn’t wish to be in his mother’s company unless it was truly necessary. Occasionally, they allowed the young man in their company, but their full attention was elsewhere due to their responsibilities instead of Bleys. Which left Corwin, who roamed the seas as of this moment and taught the boy on how to sail, and helped further improve his sword skills. 

“Only a year… one more year before I can finally walk the Pattern,” Bleys breathed at the sea. 

“Nervous?” Corwin asked, staring ahead much like his young sibling.

Bleys shrugged, “If I die, I die. If I make it through, I’ll live. Simple as that.” The young man flashed Corwin a quick smile. “Won’t be long now till either Clarissa or Fiona notices I’m gone. So I’ll already say you hello, brother-” Just at that moment, a Trump call rang in his head, and Bleys knew better than try to resist his sister. Like murdered innocence, Bleys took Fiona’s hand.

“- and goodbye to you.” Corwin replied as he raised his glass to Bleys, just before the redhead vanished in rainbow shimmer.

“So, what’s the news?” Bleys asked his sister.

“We’re all going on a trip together in Shadow.” His mother’s voice answered for Fiona. 

Bleys sighed. Well, at least there would tend to be fewer doors that bang against the walls. That was something.

-()-

Eric’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he chased behind the Puck - but this time, the prince wasn’t so easily fooled anymore by his tricks as in their previous encounters and shattered the illusions like glass. “You’d do better to surrender!” 

The Puck, sensing his misleading visions didn’t have their previous effect, halted and narrowed his eyes to regard Eric. “ _You’ve gained someone’s aid…”,_ The sprite said and then towards Oonagh, _“... off course, should have known by Titiana’s handmaid.”_ The Puck said both in amusement and with bite as he seated himself on a tree branch and began to twist the golden arrow in his fingers.

“I’ll show you my profession, sprite!” Oonagh snarled as she raised her arrow towards him, though it was quickly pointing once more to the ground by Eric’s hand. “What are you-”

“He’s mine to kill when _I_ please!” Eric interrupted without looking at her, and the ground seemed to grumble when the prince emphasized. "Now, why do you not flee, like old times?” Eric asked to the Poucka.

 _“The game has become old. And about you, stories are told… A bastard, much like I… born from the same guy.”_ The Puck replied as he jumped to the ground. 

“Oberon begot you?” Eric asked to make sure he had heard him alright. The sprite nodded at this. “Why did Queen Titiana cast you out? Why did Oberon never speak of you?”

 _“She did because I, Puck-Robin the servant, followed the orders of my king - love potion on her eyes I had to wring! But not the sole reason, no no, she hated that Oberon took me from amusement from his other beau!”_ And the little sprite began to spill everything out - how Titiana was jealous of the beauty and fertility of his mother Mab; how Mab was jealous and embittered that Oberon did not recognize her or the son he begotten with her; how the Fae court soon became divided by between Titiana and Mab Goodfellow. _“War soon followed between two queens, and I wanted make true my genes. To the Pattern in Arden I fled, and its lines I thread-”_

 _A Pattern in Arden?!_ Eric could not dwell on it any further, for Puck continued on. 

_“My mother died, while Oberon and his pride survived…”_ The sprite darkly muttered to himself, before turning his eyes once more to Eric, _“A bastard like me, you share the same pain, to see our father reign! Without consequence or remorse he leads, with your help I can make sure he and all of Amber BLEEDS!”_

All of a sudden, an arrow went by Eric and hit Puck in the shoulder. "What the hell are you-? STOP!" Eric barked to Oonagh, and the fairy was hurled backwards by an unseen wind. "Robin-" Eric now turned to the screaming sprite, "Robin, she did not shoot on my orders, she-" 

But Puck's face had already twisted itself to its uglier and darker side from the pain and the neglect. And so it was that when Puck roared out and lashed out at Oonagh, that he was hurled upwards and against a tree by Eric’s command - veins began to curl and twist around the fae, who was about as high as a 6-year old child. 

Sensing Oonagh was somewhat calmed down, Eric now gave the sprite his full attention. "Puck, stay down."

But as Eric talked, Puck’s form twisted alongside the veins he produced. Soon, Robin Goodfellow became a little Will’o wisp, which had no effort to get out of the branches and flew towards Eric. At the last second, the fae turned to his humanoid form and punched Eric in the face, and tried a second time when the prince snatched Puck’s arm instead, as well as the other that came swinging towards his face.

“Robin Goodfellow,” Eric gritted his teeth as the two began to test each other’s strength,“Stop right now, for once I begin-” The prince growled.

“-I won’t be able to stop!” Puck finished with shown teeth, and transformed in a bird, flying upwards and diving downwards towards the prince, before turning into a bull at the last second. 

Eric could barely avoid being squashed and the prince collided his hand firmly on the ground, causing the earth to turn itself around and burying the fae. Heavily breathing Eric put himself up his feet. 

“Mere earth won’t kill him,” Oonagh said who had been watching all the while.

“Great help you’ve been so far,” Eric spat at her.

“You seem perfectly fine to handle him on your own. Besides, didn’t you want to kill him as you please?”

Eric grumbled something very un-princely under his teeth and turned his eyes once more upon Puck, who’d dug himself out as a mole and just took the opportunity to hurle an entire tree towards him. The prince caught it, though had to step backwards from the force, barely preventing Oonagh from being squashed. The prince heavily breathed out as he took out Werewindle to meet Puck’s incoming attack from his spear. There was just no reasoning left with the sprite. The madness had taken him over completely and he wasn't going to die for a lost cause.

Oonagh meanwhile, became more weary as time went on, or perhaps it was a sense of guilt that drove her to the sky. But every time she changed her position, Puck noted, and changed into a Will o wisp, or a mouse, and reappeared somewhere far or too close to Eric. 

Child. Stag. Lion. Eric saw and fought every form and trick Robin Goodfellow threw at him, but at long last, the prince slowly put the fae into submission. “KNEEL!” Eric bellowed, making the veins tighten even further. He was caught, but Eric as well as Oonagh couldn’t let their concentration slip for one second, or the sprite would make use of it and flee once more. 

“Let me kill him already.” Oonagh grumbled as she kept her dagger at Puck’s throat, "Like you promised my Queen, you'd hunt them down and see them dead."

Eric glared at her. _Did she want Puck dead truly for that reason? Or was it before Puck could spill his backstory and other possible secrets about Titiana?_ "He may have more answers to give,” Eric said while looking at Puck before looking at Oonagh to say, "You got your first and final warning. Next time you overstep your boundaries, you'll have none." Eric slowly said to the fairy, who looked uncomfortable for the first time since their companionship. "Now Get him up his feet and on my ho-” Eric had opened his mind so wide to stay in touch with the Pattern, as to be able to sense the slightest spell that Puck might use, that the Trump call came in without any effort. NO! The prince roared in his mind, full of rage at whoever had broken his hold and send the caller away with a headache he or she would never forget. Once more the prince tried to tighten the veins, but he had spent much of his power. 

Puck broke free, and everything within a close radius was flung away like it was nothing - Oonagh and Eric as well, with some branches embedded in their bodies from the throwback.

The prince screamed from rage and pain, and he began to twist and take them out, “Get up!” The prince bellowed as he forced Oonagh up, “Fly behind him, I will not loose Robin again out of my sight!” Eric groaned when the last branch got out of his shoulder and momentarily the prince halted, to ease his dizziness. It was not solidly from the pain that Puck had inflicted upon him. Eric took a deep breath, feeling his senses going into overdrive, as it always did whenever he had tapped too much in Fae magic. Born Fae had no such side-effects, as they truly were one with nature and could keep their magic flowing infinitely through their body. 

“I can't.”

"What do you mean, you ca-" Eric began to yell at her, and his head seemed to split open. 

_"My wing!"_ Oonagh screamed through Eric's voice and with tears in her eyes, she lifted her trembling, torn wing so Eric could see it. 

Eric rubbed his forehead, let out frustrated growl and looked at her other, less severe, but not in the least less painful, wounds, before taking her arm and guiding her towards a sturdy tree. The prince laid his free hand upon the bark, and let the energy flow towards the fairy. As the tree began to wither and turn to dust, most of Oonagh's wounds came to be in a further stadium of healing. Her wing however, was too damaged to heal with one tree alone. The magic of the Fae was all about keeping balance. Something had to be given, in order for one to use certain spells - and he had already given much today. The prince staggered once again, feeling sweat appear on his face, his hands shaking. “Now....you'll bloody walk alongside me” The prince took her wrist and pulled Oonagh along, following Puck deeper in Shadow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some writers love to write action. I'm NOT one of them and I'm jealous of the people who do and can write amazing action scenes. God, I find fight/battles infuriating to write, because in your head it looks it looks like the battle of Helms Deep, yet when you write it down you feel like a kid smashing lego figures together. So that's why I'm cheating my way through... for now. The things that I'm setting up will involve a battle that I can't... quite... avoid and I'm freaking dreading it SO. HARD. *slams head on table*
> 
> No, what I like to do as a writer, is get into the origin of certain stories or characters, get inspired, and really get into the emotional side and dialogue. So, because how freaking proud I am about my research:
> 
> In a french poem called "Huon de Bordeaux", Oberon makes his début as Fae King and grants a horn to Huon, which will grant him immediate aid from Oberon and his armies when he blows on the instrument. Also, Oberon is born of Julius Caesar and Morgan le Fay. (I'm not making this up)
> 
> Some give the name Titiana for Oberon's consort, others say Mab is the name for the Fae Queen. She makes her appearance in Mercutio's dream in "Romeo&Juliet", and in "Peter Pan". And speaking of a green-clothed prankster...
> 
> Poucka's can be both benevolent and wicked in english and welsch myth: Some intervene to protect travellers from a horrible accident, others jump and force you to run till you drop dead from exhaustion. Its therefore important to treat them with respect.  
> According to a 17th century pamphlet, Puck is said to be offspring of Oberon and is granted the ability to shape-shift by his father. In my story, Oberon's neglect and Titiana's wrath cause poor Puck to lose himself more to his wicked than his benevolent side.
> 
> In Irish folklore, Oonagh is yet another faerie queen, a goddess of magic/illusions and protector of the animals. No mortal could look at her and not be awed.
> 
> In the Amber RPG Rulebook, I found it a fascinating angle that Eric as "a mage of Amber", may have had some power to withstand the redheads and I wanted to use that idea. Fae magic is not on the same level as the Pattern but different/difficult enough for the redheads to have trouble understanding it. 
> 
> As for Roger the guard... I wanted to write him out of the story (for now) and provide a reason as to how he still seems so... youthful when he and Corwin meet up in the dungeon. Corwin mentions how his father lived on for millenia. And according to the "visual guide of Amber", Corwin's following died out in Amber during his exile, because so many generations have passed away. So, sending Roger off in a slower moving Shadow, solved both those problems. 
> 
> Well, I'm off to screw up the marriage of the redheaded bitch. *insert evil laughter*


	8. No fury like a woman scorned

“Maybe she’ll offer herself as a better wife to him.”

“Queen Moins may be just as ticked as us about the way the Shadows are turning against us. What does not bode well for Amber, does not bode well for Rebma.”

“It would do well for our liege to take another wife - how many children hasn’t our queen given already? She does not have eternal youth and each labor is far more riskful than the last.”

“Perhaps she’s already unable to bear our King any more children -” 

“- and Queen Moins is far younger than her.”

“Our liege could easily annul his marriage to his current wife and take another. He’s done it before.”

The court of Amber and the streets for that matter, where alive with rumors when they heard their Queen had returned at the very night Queen Moins of Rebma came to visit Amber. Younger, more beautiful, and a kingdom that was already close for trade, most deemed Moins a better fit than Clarissa.

It was in those circumstances that the present wife of Oberon arrived - and her somewhat cheerful mood to simply spend time with her children, and some longing to see her husband again, dulled when she noted the Queen of Rebma staying at court longer than protocol required.

As the queen of Amber approached, Moins of Rebma began to notice her presence. The conversations between the queen and her ladies in waiting quietened and the rebman women rose from their seats. “My lady,” Moins gave a slight bow, her head slightly tilted to her left, before turning to her right, “My lord. Welcome back to Amber.” 

She wasn’t adressing her, but her children. Clarissa’s smile turned grim. “Lady Moins.”

“Oh. Lady Clarissa.” The way Moins spoke, was as if she saw an endearing child for the first time. “I am honored to meet you at last. Would you all join us for a glass of wine?” 

"Thank you most kindly, but-" Clarissa began, when Bleys came forward with a dashing grin and a sweeping bow to the rebman queen.

“The stories are true then, that the rebmans gain visions from the mirrors in their halls - I can never refuse such an offer.” 

Moins offered a little smile for the first time since their meeting. "And the stories are true regarding your generous flattery, Lord Bleys.” 

Bleys’ eyes noted that the handmaiden tasked with opening and serving the wine, struggled to release the cork out of the bottle. 

“Forgive me, my lord, I-”

“It is quite alright. Allow me, my lady....” With ease, the cork popped out by Bleys’ hand guiding the flushed handmaiden. “What is your name?”

“Ah... “ The handmaiden coughed to get her breathing under control. “R-Reyna, My lord.” Some of the wine spilled over the cup.

“There is no need for the usage of titles or to be nervous, Lady Reyna.” Bleys said while the handmaiden passed the cups to his sister and mother. “In order to avoid such awkward situations, I could… demonstrate on how to release a cork from its bottle without brute strength involved?” The prince asked as the handmaiden finally offered Bleys his cup. 

Fiona would have rolled her eyes if it were without the presence of her mother or the rebman queen. Seriously, her brother’s flirtations were cliché and cringe-worthy to hear, and for some reason the girls ate it up like candy. 

“Ah, Lady Moins, here you are. I thought you had lost your way to the diner table.” Oberon almost seemed to appear out of the blue and very… cheerful to see Moins. So much so that even Bleys’ attention shifted from getting Moins’ handmaiden into his bed. 

“Hardly, my lord. I was merely enjoying the sun. Sadly, it is one of the treasures Rebma has to miss.”

Oberon only gave a glance at his wife when replying, “I hope to discuss some further matters in my office.”

“It is no bother,” and Moins added almost as an afterthought to Clarissa, “It was lovely to meet you.”

“Off course.” Clarissa returned her husband a tense smile - his demeanor didn’t bother her, but most to her children, whom neither received some sense of greeting or some acknowledgement. As Moins vanished with Oberon at her arm, Clarissa looked at her curves. Despite having already bore a child, you wouldn’t say it was the case when you saw her. Bristling, the queen turned on her heel, while Fiona shot both her parents a worried look, and Bleys was giving a goodbye kiss upon Reyna’s hand.

-()-

Benedict had taught him and Corwin not just the sword, but also how to move through Shadow. It was dangerous, the tall warrior said, to let your mind wander too much, for it causes Shadow to shift far too quickly under your feet and you lose control.

Puck had had no mentor at all, and there was no ‘royal way’ that Eric and Oonagh followed him into. It was like walking on drifting ice in a fast flowing river. You had to decide quickly if the piece was sturdy enough to stand on, but you could not wait too long either or you’d be swept off with the current. That was closest to how chasing Robin Goodfellow felt like.

Eric did not hear Oonagh’s plea to stop - too focused on rifling through Shadow as quickly as Robin did though not too close to the sprite that he could sense he was being followed, and kept such a tight grip on Onnagh’s arm, her blood could barely circulate. 

But finally, the turning of Shadow began to slow down, and Eric slowly breathed out. “I believe we’ve arrived.”

“Where?” Oonagh quietly asked, feeling as if her stomach might turn upside down from the almost maddening trip. 

“I do not know this Shadow,” Eric replied just as softly, for he did not wish to alert anyone and because they were in a wide open grassland. The sky was pitch dark and not even stars or clouds were there to see where the sky ended and the ground began. The only light that this world provided was by a gigantic, full moon. Barely any wind either, Eric noted as he licked his finger and held it in the air. The prince glanced at the fairy next to him and gestured with his head to continue on, not in the mood to talk in such a gloomy place. 

Their boots cracked and rustled upon the grass, making it echo across the steppe. And while it seemed devoid of life, Eric felt invisible eyes on him. Having spent years in the forests of Arden, made Eric’s instincts scream it was dangerous, to be walking around like this. The prince took a moment to take a deep breath - the air was warm and humid, and not at all pleasant to breathe in. 

“Where did Robin Goodfellow go?” 

The prince brought the pattern in front of his mind and glanced around the terrain… nothing. Nothing. there! Someone with the Pattern had walked closeby. Kneeling down, the prince inspected the foot print and crawled forward, to see another one. “He went in that direction” Eric pointed with Werewindle and began walking in said direction. 

“I do not know if it's wise to keep pursuing him, prince. He fled to this shadow, maybe wanting you to follow here.”

“Yes.” Eric nodded, “I-” His sentence died off when he noted something in the corner of his eye. The moment he did turn his head though, the apparition had vanished. “You saw anything?”

Oonagh shook her head, and the two walked further on, but much more on guard than ever. They had walked for a couple of minutes, when Eric felt Oonagh’s hand on his shoulder. “Wh-” Eric glanced ahead, following Oonagh’s gaze and his eyes widened. The creature had not yet seen them, but it was all too familiar for Eric - sharp teeth ripping his weirs apart, the bones cracking… these things were responsible for their deaths. 

It appeared to be floating and sniffing around, like a predator searching for a victim. As Eric kept watching, it became harder to actually make sense of what the creature was - it seemed to shift between gender, shift between beast and man, and yet it had a sense of familiarity that gave Eric the cold ripples on his back. And it was not just because he had sensed such a creature so long ago, when he returned from Vyraj, no it was…

Their eyes met, and it were Benedict’s cold eyes that stared back at him. The creature looked like Benedict, walked like Benedict, and while his mind screamed it was not his brother, Eric felt himself grow cold and immobile as the creature approached him and Oonagh both. 

It is your brother. Benedict would never act that coldly to one of his own kin. That would be more father’s w- And barely had he thought it, or Benedict with his spear changed into his father the King, armed with a two-handed sword.

“Father-” Eric felt his mouth go dry, his knees began to wobble and stumble backwards as Oberon advanced. “Please, I-” He heard himself plea and mutter like a scared child under his father’s intense eyes. 

“I should have spilled your bastard blood the moment you were born.” 

Bastard… bastard, yes he was. Eric remembered the taunting of Corwin, the blue fire of the Pattern- the Pattern! It had never cost as much difficulty as it had right now to bring it in front of his mind, but its flickering, ghostly image appeared. And just when Oberon was about to swing his sword, Eric found the strength in his arm returning and swung Werewindle to meet his father’s sword. The prince gasped, for he had expected his father’s strength to cleave his sword and cut through his neck. 

But Werewindle had held the sword at bay. He had not the strength of Amber. It was not his father. And as Eric met Oberon’s eyes, the creature began to shift, and the cold began to creep on Eric’s arms once again. “NO!” Eric roared as the creature tried to attack him again, and Werewindle once again shot out to block the weapon of his opponent, before Werewindle cleaved through the creature’s chest like butter. 

It screamed in a high-pitched agonizing tone and Eric cut with Werewindle for a third time to permanently shut the thing up. 

-()-

Deirdre sipped her wine as she watched the head of the table - Moins sat on Oberon’s right, Clarissa on his left. And while father did converse with his wife, his attention was quickly drawn towards Moins. 

The instability of Shadow would be resolved if father didn’t give Clarissa reason to feel jealous and cast aside to begin with. In the past week of Clarissa’s return, he had barely spoken with her, supposingly “too busy” with the upcoming preparations. Just how he cast her aside whenever she wished to discuss Eric’s silence via Trump. If he were dead, or if he were too occupied, a reserve should be placed to watch over Arden’s more prominent borders. 

“I will see into it later,” her father would say and gesture her away like a fly. 

A shove at her elbow startled the princess and made her glance to Corwin, “Huh, what?”

“I asked, if you will no longer eat that,” Corwin somewhat irritatedly asked, “For I will gladly take it for myself.”

“Yeah, eat up, I’m no longer hungry.” Deirdre absent-mindedly shoved her plate to Corwin, who devoured her plate in seconds. Father was close to finishing eating as well and the moment he put his fork and knife down, nobody was allowed to eat one single bite more. 

It was also nearly time to crack open a new bottle of wine for the next course and as Deirdre’s hand went to her napkin to wipe her mouth, her hand pulled the little bottle out of her pocket and hid it around the napkin so it was kept out of sight. “I have to excuse myself to the toilet,” Deirdre said as she pushed herself from her seat and swayed back and forth, faking to rub her belly. “Time of the month.”

“Do you really have to say that when I’m eating a medium baked steak?!” Corwin responded with his mouth full, “Gah, Deirdre!”

Deirdre had counted on Corwin’s discomfort to accompany her, rushed out of the throne room and down to the wine inventory. Her father’s wine was always kept separately, the obvious reason being poison. The other being that dad just LOVED his wine collection. Bleys had felt that the hard way when he’d snuck in dad’s private wine cellar….

Deirdre watched the servants pass in the shadows, going off and on to see everyone well fed and drunk. The moment dad’s servant came along, Deirdre purposefully put herself in front, causing the servant to nearly drop the tray with the bottle and the glass. “Your highness!”

“I wasn’t pleased with my wine - it hardly matched with the fish and I tasted cork.” Deirdre said as she stabilized the tray before it could topple the bottle on the ground. “Bring the man responsible here, with another bottle of wine”

“off course, my lady, I shall do so after I’ve seen to the king-”

“Tell me, is the sommelier choosing both for myself and my kin as well as the king?” When the man nervously nodded, Deirdre sweetly went on saying, “You are lucky it was me who came before the wine came to your liege - he’s far less forgiving for such mistakes, especially when the wine is already going to his head.”

“I’ll.. I’ll ask.”

“Let me take that from you while you search,” Deirdre said as she took the tray from him, “That way, you’ll be quicker to return and serve your liege.” She’d kept mentioning her father, and that on itself was already enough for the servants to feel nervous. Combined with the hustle and bustle concerning the main course, the man didn’t think twice, gladly relieved himself of the literal weight and went to frantically search for the sommelier. 

“Thank you, m’lady.”

No, thank you, Deirdre silently replied as the servant ran out of sight. The princess quickly took the flacon, dipped some of the liquid on the napkin and let the napkin go around the edges of her father’s glass. She’d just put away the flacon when the manservant returned, with the sommelier at his tail. 

“Your highness, I heard the wine was not to your liking?”

“Indeed it was not.” Deirdre went on describing the wine she desired, as well as pointing out to the sommelier what her father wished, and returned to her table.

“Finally, I’m starving!” Corwin exclaimed when they came with the main course. 

Deirdre rolled her eyes at her brother before letting her eyes fall upon her unaware father, who just took his glass to sip from it -

“Excuse me, my lady.”

Deirdre scowled when her manservant blocked her view to fill her glass. The moment the servant had backed off, Deirdre saw her father amiably chatting with Clarissa, and the princess let out a sigh of relief - the potion had worked on her father, and he had fallen in love once more with Clarissa.

Everything had gone perfectly. Sounds that didn’t leave much to the imagination, came from the King’s chambers that night. 

-()-

What… was that?”

“I don’t… know.” Eric panted, still feeling the high pitched scream in his ears. “But let us hope that none heard our little scout.”

“You addressed that thing as your father,” Oonagh softly replied as she poked with her bow into the silvery ashes of the creature, “But I did not see King Oberon, I saw a banshee.”

“It looks like they are playing with our minds and fears,” The prince began to walk towards the rocky terrain when he noted a fiery glow ahead, changed his course and began to hear voices murmuring. Carefully, the prince took a peak and froze.

“What is i- oh.” Oonagh noted Eric freezing up and decided to take a peak herself. 

Before them, dozens of women were not only riding atop of the men, but they were tearing off the limbs and bone while the men writhed in agony and pleasure. No matter what pain they inflicted, the men kept on living, until the woman seemed to tire of him and decided for another one instead.

Eric winced when he noticed one of the women reaching between a man’s legs and turned his head away at the sound, seeing another figure somewhat removed from the riding women. LIke all the others, the figure had sharp claws and low-hanging breasts, but… Eric felt his heart quicken in his chest when he noticed Queen Clarissa. Or at least, someone resembling her quite, quite well. “Oonagh, do you see a curly-haired plump woman over there?” Eric whispered without taking his eyes off the creature.

“Yes.”

How?! How could that be that this creature, who resembled Clarissa so much, did not shift like all the others? If she were Amberite, Eric would theorize it was some sort of doppelganger in Shadow. But Clarissa was not, and therefore she should not be able to.

Eric tore his eyes off ‘Clarissa’ and glanced at the riding women and the dying men. He couldn’t be sure about Clarissa’s situation in Amber, unless he asked his siblings by Trump, whom he hardly saw as objective towards Oberon’s queen, or if he paid the city a visit in person. But then there was also the matter of Robin Goodfellow, whom he could not keep wandering free… Eric crawled backwards and sighed, rubbing his head.

“Prince.” 

Eric glanced at Oonagh and uncomfortably met her eyes. “What?” 

“Robin Goodfellow.” Oonagh whispered and pulled at Eric’s shoulder. 

Eric crawled forward again, with his right shoulder bumping against Oonagh’s left. They seemed amiable towards one another, but it was hard to make out what they said. There was no wind that could carry their conversation to their ears, and only occasionally, Eric could hear their voices become loud enough to catch something. Now, Robin Goodfellow was speaking:

“Mara,... talked to… Arden.”

Mara. Eric refrained from whispering the name out loud, for names had power, and now she was speaking. “Titiana… dead by now! You and your children-” Eric gasped at the revelation, nearly missing the rest. “...Pattern… attack.” 

“We’ve heard enough,” Eric turned his eyes to Oonagh, “We have to leave.” The prince began to descend, when -

“It would be rude to leave without notifying your host, Eric of Amber.” 

-()-

The few passionate nights that Oberon had shared with Clarissa, seemed almost like a means for Oberon to distract himself, instead of actually pleasuring him. Whatever trick she tried, he failed to spill his seed. He had never been gentle with her, and it normally excited her, but now it was more pain than pleasure. “Oberon…” Clarissa tried to tell her husband to slow down, but he kept going, going - 

“Moins.” 

Clarissa’s eyes snapped open when she heard Oberon call her by another name, and wanted to scream in rage when he came inside her, feeling more filthy than the lowest beggar in the streets of Amber. She wanted to claw his eyes out, wrap her fingers around his neck, but instead Clarissa closed her eyes so Oberon would not see them. 

The next day, Clarissa pretended she had never heard it and Oberon never said a word to her about it. Perhaps, he thought she had not heard, or he no longer cared pretending. Either way, Clarissa silently went out of bed, dressed herself and sought up her children. To them, Clarissa poured out all her rage and pain.

“I’ll make him regret the day he became unfaithful to me!” Clarissa vowed as she paced back and forth. “I don’t want to be just a nuisance to him, I want him stripped of his dignity and power, as much as I was!”

Bleys watched his mother rampage, before finally saying, “Finndo and Osric thought just the same,” the prince repeated the words he had heard of his elder brothers when he questioned father’s decisions. “and look what happened to them, despite having father’s blood. We’ve been here too few times to show our disdain to father as openly as Deirdre.” The prince added a jab to his own mother, saying on his mind what both he and Fiona thought - they were cut off from their influence at court for quite a time. Amber is eternal, but even fame fades when you vanish in the Shadows.

“Speaking about Deirdre...Bleys, I’d like you to talk to her.”

Bleys raised his eyebrow to his sister. “Talk about what?”

Fiona waved with her hand. “Like you said - we are not in a position to show our disdain, at least not without support. Charm and coax Deirdre to do more than just show it. Have her act on it, and let her take the fall when we, poor misled children, are pardoned.”

Bleys’ eyes sparkled at his sister’s idea. “And what of you? What will you do in the meantime?”

“I’ve been digging in the rumors of Faiella’s background as well as Oberon’s history with Titiana. If they are true, it would mean Faiella’s offspring has a very unique bond with the Fae Queen, who holds a grudge against Oberon herself”

That stirred a vague memory in the younger brother, about Eric and Deirdre, leaning on the balcony and mentioning the oddest names that he, as a young boy, had not quite comprehended. He’d merely gone back and babbled to his sister how odd the names were that his big siblings had mentioned. He’d nearly forgotten about it. It looks like his big sister had not. “You’ve been doing your homework. But even If we can get Deirdre on her side, it does not automatically guarantee the Fae Queen on our side.”

“She’s close with Eric. And he has his own… bottled frustrations with father.”

“And how will you march an army through Shadow?” Clarissa interrupted her children. “Oberon has not allowed you to step foot on the Pattern." Clarissa said to Fiona,"Tir na Nogh would require the assistance of the Trumps, which you do not have. Rebma would alert Oberon immediately if you were to visit.”

“There is a Pattern in Arden, according to Dworkin. Eric is absent at the moment, and thus it would be the perfect time to walk it. But the danger is not just in walking upon the lines, but also because this particular Pattern crosses through various Shadows of Arden. It makes it even more unpredictable than Tir na Nogh.”

Bleys’ shrugged. “Live a little, dear sister, and try it instead of mulling over what could or could not happen."

-()-

The numbing fear began to ripple across his back and upon his arms once again as he heard Mara speak, and all the women’s eyes settled on him. “I didn’t wish to disturb your conversation with my blood relative.” Once again, Eric forced his feet to move despite the increasing cold.

“Yes! Run, Eric, run like I had to run from our father!” Robin Goodfellow shouted this time, and Eric dared to look behind him, to see not only the nightmarish creatures hunt them down, but also the pucks that Robin commanded, as well as ‘Clarissa’.

Eric’s feet and heart pounded and his will screamed out to change Shadow to his will. Trees, the prince thought of Arden as he ran on, Big, giant trees, cabbling water, the mount Kolvir in the distance and the faint smell of the sea… It worked, but not as quick as it would normally go. 

“Prince, we need to get out of here!” Oonagh screamed and panic began to seep through her voice. Panicking and fear was what made these creatures thrive here - it made them quicker in their pursuit and they began to run in on them.

“I know!” Eric yelled back, “I’m trying!” The prince thought till his vision began to swim and his head began to split open, feeling the slightest change in Shadow exhaust him to the extreme. “Damn you, Robin Goodfellow.” Eric growled and he could hear the sprite laugh.

“By the Stag, prince, then blow the horn if you can only try!” Oonagh roared back at him. His stubbornness to get them out by himself could very well cost their lives!

Eric had thought about Titania's gift - feeling the horn emit a coolness vastly different than those creatures, and his hand slipping to it… No, no he would not use it!

“ERIC!” Oonagh fired her last arrow, leaving her with only a dagger that the prince left her. 

They were about to wash over them like a wave, when Eric put the horn to his lips and blew his lungs out.

-()-

That very night, Clarissa rode away from Amber on horseback. While her children meant well, she meant what she said - SHE wanted to see Oberon on his knees, not through the usage of their abilities. It was common knowledge that only the blood of Dworkin can travel the Pattern. Well, she now possessed some of that blood within herself. At least, those cursed nights had given her something in return, Clarissa thought to herself as she stroke her belly. The queen of Amber tied her horse and went to the Fae ring, which was glowing in the moonlight. 

“Fae Queen, you will hear me!” 

The flickering will ‘o wisps stopped dancing. The moonlight almost seemed to become cold upon her skin, the branches reached out like the claws of an old hag. 

“Do not presume I came here on your command, Clarissa, but because I foolishly hope you can amuse me.” The trees parted and an irritated Titiana appeared before the red haired woman - they all were the same, thinking they could own her, because of the titles they held. 

“I’m with a child.”

Titiana let out an exaggerated sigh, “Let me guess, you wish to trade the child for power?”

“Almost. I wish to keep both.”

“Then why are you here?” Titiana’s sharp tone caused the trees to sharpen even further, testing her patience. 

“We both hold a grudge against Oberon - allow me to walk the Pattern in your realm and let me gain the power over Shadow.”

“A pregnant woman by Dworkin’s blood has never tested Pattern before. It could embrace you because of the child you carry, or destroy you because you do not have Dworkin’s blood” Titiana replied, “And then there is off course the trial itself, which is already excruciating for Oberon’s very own sons and daughters. You are but a mortal.”

“Indeed. But you have the least to lose out of us both,” Clarissa retorted.

“So it is.” Titiana measured up Oberon’s current wife, ‘I’m merely warning you not to treat the river that has had but one night of ice.”

“Are you going to help me or not, Fae Queen?! The night isn’t becoming any younger!”

“Very well, child.” Titiana waved her hand and a path cleared for both women to walk. No moonlight seemed to penetrate through these trees, Clarissa noted with a shudder and no forest life could be heard either. After what seemed like an eternity, a blue-greenish glow began to shine in the distance and began to grow bigger as they advanced. “Here it is, child. You can still turn back. It's not yet too late.”

For a moment, the red haired women hesitated at the sight - it truly was a long, twirling path she would have to follow - before resolutely stepping towards the Pattern and placed her foot down before she could rethink her decision. 

Gasping, Oberon’s wife looked down. No fire that was consuming her. Sure, it hurt like hell for her feet and ankles whenever she advanced, but she could walk the Pattern! Panting the queen went through the veils, and the fire rose higher to sting her legs and arms. It stung so much that her skin began to be pierced by the final veil, and blood began to swell and trickle down her body.

The queen sagged down upon the center, and began to choke on her out-of-breath laughter. She heard other, tingling voices laugh as well and Clarissa looked up - straight into Oberon’s piercing eyes.

The King of Amber was lunging on a make-shift throne of oak and leaves - his feet dangling on the right, his back resting at the left. He was dressed in the changing colors of autumn - orange, yellow, brown and red - and his crown wasn’t silver with emeralds that Clarissa had known him to wear, but sparkling gold with poisonous berries entangled in it. “I hope you’ve had your fun, my dear _wife_ ?” Oberon coldly smiled upon Clarissa and he snapped his fingers, causing the Pattern around the two to revert as it truly was - a path laid out with thorns and needles. “ _I_ most certainly had.”

Clarissa glanced to the fae Queen, who shrugged. “I warned you several times.”

“He betrayed and humiliated you! How can you still take his side-”

“Because despite our grudge, we have learned to live next to one another,” Titiana coldly remarked. “Oh sure, those little vendetta’s aided to vent our rage at first, but even they grow tiresome after a couple of millenia.” The fae queen cast a glance at Oberon, and for a moment, Clarissa saw their masks crumble to an almost humane couple in love.

It was then that Titiana heard Eric’s call resonate in her ears, and her eyes snapped to the younger woman, “Now get out of my sight.” The Fae Queen briskly demanded, “The both of you.” Her scepter hit the ground two, three times, and a path formed to the nearest fae ring.

-()-

Immediately, the prince could feel ripples of Shadow go outwards, causing the horde to stop in confusion at the strange sensation. The effect didn’t last long though, and the horde rushed forward, when dozens of arrows embedded themselves in their bodies, causing them to turn into dust like Werewindle had done. 

Eric could hear Robin Goodfellow scream like a banshee and glanced behind him to see Titiana’s army. The very Shadow they were on, underwent a change too, under their presence - the grass and trees didn’t look so dead anymore as they once had, but Eric could also sense that, stretched so far from Amber and her own kingdom, it was only temporary. They would have to make do, for now. But Since Eric wanted their element of surprise to be used to their maximum, he fought and kicked and tore his way through his opponents to finally meet Robin Goodfellow, instead of waiting.

Benedict would ring his head for sure. 

Even with all his strength and speed, Eric was overwhelmed quickly, and small wounds became big ones. The prince was already thinking about the words of his bloodcurse, when something white washed all the grey and black away, and the prince stared up to see Titiana offer him her hand. 

“Robin Goodfellow-” Eric shook his head, wanting to continue on fighting.

“My power over Shadow is not infinite,” Titiana snapped back at him, “and I did not come all this way to die alongside a fool!”

Eric scowled at her words, trying to ignore his body that was begging to rest. His mind was all that kept his legs standing now and her words made him all the more aware of his weakened state. “Alright… alright…” The prince cracked out, and offered the Fae Queen his hand, who heaved him up behind her back and yelled for a retreat. It was only now that his legs could rest, that the prince felt himself go dizzy from exhaustion.

“Stay awake, Eric.”

The prince grumbled a yes, as he saw Titiana pull at Shadow. The last thing he saw was wonderful lavish green and clear crystal water. 

-()-

Eric let out a deep breath and moved with his eyes closed to the side, only to hiss and open his eyes when he felt a flaring pain in his arm. 

“Careful now.”

The prince narrowed his still sensitive eyes and saw a shadowy figure come towards him. “Wh-” Eric croaked out, “What-”

“You are in Vyraj, Eric.” 

The swimming image slowly transformed into Benedict, and Eric felt himself heaved into a sitting position. “My head…” The prince moaned. He felt as if a thousand horses had trampled over his body, and as if he had been buried under the ground for weeks. “How did you…”

“Queen Titiana called me by one of your trumps.” Benedict replied as he offered his brother a cup of tea. 

Eric felt his cheeks redden - whether it was from the fever or from shame, the prince couldn’t tell. “Ah, I see.”

“No one knows but us.” Benedict softly spoke while Eric slurped from the tea. 

“About my condition? Or about Robin Goodfellow?”

“Both,” Benedict shortly replied as he took Werewindle out of its sheath. “The fae noted you stirring, and I wanted to speak to you-” The warrior went with his hand over the blade to gather the dust on his hand, and a familiar screeching reached Eric’s ears, “- about the moonriders of Ghenesh.”

“Seeing how you’ve named them, I can assume you’ve already encountered them?”

“Not I. I can only tell what Osric and Finndo - the ones Titiana harbored - found out. When walking in the more dangerous parts of Shadow, to recruit an army against dad, they found creatures who jump on the backs of inattentive travellers till they drop dead or ‘ride’ them in their sleep in honor of the moon they worship. A great many Shadows have heard of these creatures in some fashion: Moroi, _Painaja, Marzanna,_ _Natt-Mara,_ -”

“Night-mare.” Eric uttered.

Benedict nodded, “Their… thirst is… insatiable. My brothers thought to have found the perfect army against Amber, but soon found these particular creatures too uncontrollable as they marched to Amber. They would keep rampaging and penetrating other Shadows, and instead of pushing towards Amber, my brothers turned their assembled army against the moonriders. It still wasn't enough, so they begged father by Trump to lend them reinforcements...”

-

_“Benedict.”_

_Startled, the teen nearly let little Eric drop out of his hands - his younger brother just began to walk, albeit somewhat unbalanced. Oberon encouraged the play-time between those two, to humiliate Cymnea even further._

_Carefully, Benedict sat Eric down and looked up to his towering dad. “Yes, dad?”_

_“One of your brothers calls me. Would you like to see them by Trump as well?”_ _Oberon waved the card of Osric in his hand._

_“Oberon, the boy is too young to see s-” Cymnea moved up from her chair._

_“Would you much rather I let him **experience** the same as his brothers?” Oberon casually asked, and Cymnea immediately sat down._

_A bit nervous by the exchange of his parents, Benedict rushed to his father, and Benedict concentrated on Osric’s trump. It had been so long since he had heard anything of his siblings - their last conversation didn't leave him on good terms with both Osric and Finndo. They were supposed to be his 'true' brothers, and they were, since they could walk the Pattern while their changelings could not, but..._

_Benedict remembered the doting way the changelings would treat him. Somewhat too doting and with some possessive streak, but they were the ones Benedict had grown up with and looked up to._

_The brothers who had come from Titiana's realm couldn't be a bigger shock. The hope to have a second chance again with his brothers quickly fizzled out. A glacier emitted more warmth than those two. Their sneering cut deeper than a sword. their arrogance knew no limits. He was treated as if he were a mere servant, and it was not long before Benedict behaved as withdrawn and quiet as one._

_But maybe, maybe that could change, now. Perhaps Osric had changed his mind..._

_Whatever greeting that had been on the teen’s lips died out when the horrors of war were laid out to him through his brother’s eyes. “Osric…” Benedict’s lips began to tremble as he felt Osric's pain like it was his own, “Father, do something, he’s dying!” The teen tried to get his hand off Trump when he felt father’s hand on his, forcing his hand to keep contact with the cool card. “_

**_"You_ ** _do it._ **_"_ **

_Along with Oberon's whisper, Benedict felt the cold hilt of a sword pushed in his free hand and Benedict's eyes widened._

_"No... No...I can't, I-" Benedict began to shake his head, again trying to free himself from the Trump card._

**_"Kill him, damn it!"_ **

_"Benedict 's eyes began to fill with water, all while still shaking his head, "No, I can't ki-" The teen began to say, and he gasped when Osric had caught the thought from his mind. "Osric, wait... wait, I don't want to, I-"_

_Osric raised his sword, quick like a snake, and it was from pure instinct that Benedict blocked. "Osric-" Again, the sword came, and this time, Benedict no longer thought about his brother. The sword blocked and embedded itself in Osric's chest before the boy could stop himself._

_Gasping and horrified, Benedict looked at the sword in his hand and back to his brother. "_ _No, no, no... Osric... no...'" It felt as if his hands were glued to the sword. "Osric... I'm sorry." Benedict stammered as his watering eyes began to blurr his brother, and the boy shut his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"_

_The ability to speak or move was taken from him when Osric spat out blood, his rage and doom. The words tore his skull open, penetrated his closed eyes and crippled his hands._

_Eric had stopped playing and began to wail._

_Benedict had frozen like a statue, untill Oberon ripped Osric's card out of his son's hand, and the teen fell upon the ground like a rag doll._

_"Benedict!" Cymnea rushed towards her only remaining son and began to shake him. "Benedict, can you hear me?"_

_Benedict's stiff figure slowly began to relax in his mother's arms. When some clarity and realization began to return to his eyes, the boy violently shook off his mother's embrace and staggered up his feet._

_"Ben, wait - Benedict!" As Cymnea ran after her son, Oberon took a wailing Eric in his arms._

_"Foolish boy..."_

_Benedict had burst into the nearest bathroom, nearly tore off the tap and began to frantically rub and wash his bloodied hands with water and soap_ _untill his skin began to burn from the pain._

_"Ben..."_

_"I can't get it off." Hysterically, Benedicts eyes darted to everything but his mother, repeating the words over and over and tearing at his hair, "I can't get it off, why doesn't it get off?!"_

_"Ben..." Benedict felt his mothers hands upon his_ _. " Its alright, son. No one sees you here."_

_Benedict's breath became labored, and his face contorted as he tried to push his emotions away, like his father had taught him. "Mom..." Benedict once more averted his eyes, looking down upon his bloodied hands, hands that held the blood of his brother, his brother who had cursed him-_

_Benedicts knees buckled and his howling screams were heard in the entire hallway._

-

Benedict was shaken out of his thoughts when Queen Titiana approached. “Ah, you are awake at last!” Eric shifted his head to see Queen Titiana approach. “One of them had you completely paralyzed...” The queen went on saying as her eyes travelled to Eric’s arm.

“Hold on...How long have I _been_ here?” Eric looked at his bandages, back to Benedict and Titiana.

“In our time? 3 days.” 

“Three-?!” Eric began to heave himself up, knowing full well how quick the time difference was in Vyraj compared to Amber, when he felt his arm protest. Panting, the prince sunk back unto the bed of leaves. “Why didn’t you take me to a slower moving Shadow?” Eric demanded his older brother.

“Delivering you to Amber like you were when you left the battlefield, would have shown you vulnerable.” Titiana answered before Benedict.

Eric cast a sour glance to the Fae Queen. “Or leave your Pattern vulnerable? One never can have enough sons of Oberon closeby.”

Titiana narrowed her eyes at the prince. “Stop talking in riddles, Eric.”

“Please. Cut your charade. Robin Goodfellow told me he is Oberon’s son to Mab. You used him like you use me.” Eric carefully watched the Fae Queen as he spoke, and saw her eyes twitch when he mentioned Mab.

“I did not know about Robin’s heritage,” Titiana finally replied after a very long silence, “But that doesn’t change my perception of him in the slightest.”

“And the Pattern?” When Titiana stayed immobile like a rock, Eric furiously added, “Fae Queen, These moonriders know of the Pattern of Arden thanks to Robin Goodfellow! You let me be warden of these forests, then let me protect them properly!” Out of breath, Eric sagged back on his bed, feeling stars appear before his eyes. 

“Oberon tasked me to protect the Pattern and keep its existence hidden. Tir Na Nogh’s Pattern is protected by the wanes of the Moon; Amber’s pattern by the rocks of Kolvir; Rebma’s by the sea. Arden is the first line of defense against invaders and therefore its Pattern would fall first.”

Benedict frowned. “As long as the one true Pattern below Amber does not fail, then-”

“Even then, Arden and Vyraj are tied to its Pattern, much like Rebma and Tir na Nogh to theirs. They are not mere reflections, they are the arteries to the heart that is Amber.” Titiana snapped at the prince before turning her back to him, “Come.” 

Groaning, Eric was helped to his feet by Benedict. Still finding his balance, the prince quietly followed the Fae Queen through the trees that she moved by her will. 

“Now you know the way, just like Robin.” The Fae Queen said as the trio stared at the green-glowing Pattern before them. The fae queen paused, before casually adding, "Oberon's pet came to my realm, seeking to walk this very Pattern before you called for aid."

Eric nearly flinched at her accusing gaze. "Those events are not orchestrated."

"But very coincidental nonetheless!" Titiana snapped as she strode to the prince. Immediately, Benedict wedged himself between the two. "I held a sword before your older brothers could hold a rattle.”

"I have more than my sword to see you and your kingdom fall into ruin." A darker shade began to appear in Benedict’s eyes. "I am sure you have heard what became of Rebma after Finndo spoke his curse."

"Ho, wait…" Eric quickly put his hands on both his brother's sword hand as well as Titiana's scepter. "Your majesty, this divide is exactly what Robin desires and it will weaken us against him. You saw the creature who looked so much like Clarissa...let me go to Amber-"

"Yes." Benedict shot as he cast a murderous look at the fae queen.

"No!" Titiana objected -At least Eric was easier to work with than Oberon's oldest living son.

"Temporarily!" Eric bit out, grasping for his Trumps, "To find out what Clarissa is up to. And then I will be right back.” He felt like a mother to two bickering kids. “So just… Don’t kill each other while I’m gone, alright?" The prince shuffled with his Trumps, found Corwins and focused on the image. “May I come to you, brother?” 

“Off course.” Corwin replied, reached for Eric’s hand and pulled him in the library of Amber. “What has happened to you to come here, and in such a dishevelled state?”

“I need information. And a drink.” Eric sighed as he seated himself to get his dizzy head under control. The older brother heard the familiar sounds of Corwin’s footsteps, a bottle being opened and a glass being filled. 

“Here.”

The warden of Arden felt something cool touch his hand, clenched his fingers around the drink, sipped and began to tell everything - about Robin, his history to Oberon and Titiana, his adventure in Ghenesh and its inhabitants, and, “- one such Mara looked quite strikingly like Clarissa"

Corwin frowned his eyebrows, took a taste of his cigar and said, “It must be a manifestation-”

“No. I saw her, as clearly as I see you,” Eric shook his head. "I have told you my story. Now tell me what has happened here in Amber. Anything… odd that might ring a bell regarding the redheads, for I fear they are up to something…"

Corwin nodded, thought about his words for a bit and finally replied, “In your absence, it has not been going well between dad and Clarissa, who decided to go with the redheads into Shadow- no, I do not know which one." Corwin said before Eric could ask,"She returned just when Moins came to visit our city to mend the wounds of the past, about… give or take 7 years ago. Dad seemed quite smitten with Moins during her stay, and things seemed to go well for a time until…" Corwin sighed ,"I am not sure what transpired between dad and Clarissa that made him distance himself from her, by spending more time in Rebma. It definitely didn't help to silence the rumors that Moins conceived a child of his…" Corwin’s sentence died off when he heard footsteps arrive. It was the perfect leeway to tell Eric about Llewella’s upcoming legitimacy and Corwin scowled when Fiona entered.

“Eric. Welcome back to Amber.” The red haired girl sweetly greeted him, “You’re just in time for Llewella’s arrival.”

“Llew- what?” Eric blurted out in complete confusion. “Who-”

“Eric, let’s-” Corwin began to say, when Fiona quipped in.

“Llewella, the daughter of Moins? She’s said to arrive in Amber and be recognized by our father.” Fiona walked past them, grabbed her stack of books and went out of the hallway, leaving the two princes alone. 

“Eric…” Corwin grabbed his brother by the shoulder, when Eric yanked himself free. 

“I’m tired.” The older sibling snapped, before rushing off to his room.

-()-

“I want the child of that whore dead!" Clarissa spat to her children, "Poison her, shove her from Kolvir, bash her brains in-Accidents happen everyday to a child so little!"

“If something happens to Llewella in Amber, Rebma will scream for blood.” Fiona eyed her brother with slight unease.

Bleys nodded, like the two siblings had agreed beforehand to say to their mother. To make father pay, they would help her, but not so far as to see Amber, their very home, plunged into chaos, "and everyone’s attention will be drawn towards the underwater city, instead of father."

Clarissa eyed her two eldest. "I expected more from you two."

"It's not that we do not want to help, mother, we want to be cautious -" Bleys began to say,

"I wanna help!" Brand's squeaky voice suddenly interrupted.

"- father already suspects us-"

"I wanna help if they dont wanna, mommy!" the young boy now jumped up and down, even though he did not fully comprehend what his mother desired. "I will, I will!"

"This is for grown ups, Brand." Fiona glared at her youngest brother. "And it's not a matter whether you can help, but whether you are _capable_. You are _not_ capable. Now _be quiet_."

Brands eyes watered on purpose, "But I wanna-"

"I said be q-" Fiona began.

Your brother has more balls than the lot of you and you are twice his age." Clarissa chided at Fiona while picking Brand up. The boy stuck out his tongue at his older sister, who let out a frustrated sigh and left with Bleys at her heels. 

"Momma?"

"Yes, Brand?" Clarissa smiled to her youngest son as she put him to bed. 

"You said we are going to have a new sister," Brand slowly laid out his thoughts, "But... Fi-ona and Dei-dee is also a sister. Do I have to hate them too?"

"Do you like them?"

"I dunno." Brand shrugged,"They are not so much fun to play with. If... if our new sister doesn't seem that bad, I thought I could perhaps-"

"-Be friends with her?" Clarissa finished his sentence and Brand flinched at her biting voice, "Oh son..." The redhaired mother quickly began to soothe him and ruffled through his hair, "That child isn't going to be _just_ your new sister, like Bleys and Fiona told you."

"She isn't?"

"No. She is going to try and replace you. And when she succeeds, father doesn't want you anymore."

"Oh." Brand's eyes widened from fear and realization.

Clarissa let the silence grow to let Brand process the information. "Now, it is time to sleep." Clarissa said before placing a kiss on Brand's cheek. "Goodnight Brand." The queen was just about to leave, when Brand called. "Yes?"

"My blanket, mommy! You forgot my blanket!" Brand demanded with a pout.

"Off course, how could I?" Clarissa smiled and spread the blanket over her child. it was an ugly thing - brown, red and green - but her son adored it and couldn't sleep without it. "Goodnight, Brand."

"Night mommy."

-()-

Deirdre had always seen her siblings and herself as hard as granite, untouched by disease and hardly bothered by physical wounds. Their newest sibling showed quite plainly and uncomfortably that they were not immortal and as much flesh and blood as those in Shadow. 

A shivering 7 year old Llewella shuffled in the throne room with limping feet, a sickly white face and wet hair that stuck to her shoulders. While her hair was as green as Moins, one could see Oberon's face in hers.

Deirdre could practically hear Clarissa smirk from this distance - while it still angered the red haired woman that Llewella would be made a legitimate heir, to see Oberon’s expectations of his newest daughter crushed, gave her some satisfaction.

“Poor creature,” Deirdre could then hear Bleys whisper to Fiona, “To be born of our father and never able to walk the Pattern.”

“One never knows the future,” Deirdre replied quietly as they all kept their eyes on Llewella who clumsily bowed before Oberon. The little girl lost her balance however, and fell flat upon the ground, causing soft amused murmurs to go around the entire throne room. 

“Is that a bet you wish to wager, dear sister?” 

A great many expected the girl to cry from all the eyes that were upon her, but soon they were greatly disappointed. Llewella slowly heaved herself up, and succeeded to properly show respect to her father. It only strengthened Deirdre in her decision. “Yes, let us wager.” Deirdre hastily replied to him. 

Despite the weaknesses she could never hide, despite the pain she had to endure with every breath above water, Llewella met Oberon’s disappointed gaze as well as Clarissa’s wrathful eyes with a straightened back. “May the Unicorn watch over you and your people, your majesty.” Llewella’s hoarse voice only came out in a whisper and put all the more attention to her frail posture. But it also caused everyone to listen more attentively to one who spoke so quietly.

Something had gone terribly wrong, that was all that Deirdre knew. _had the potion dulled by time, unable to keep Oberon in love with his current wife and cause him to look elsewhere? Or had father looked at Moins instead of Clarissa when he drank the wine? Was Llewella's existence caused by her? Was it the effect of the potion that caused Llewella to be born so deformed? Or were the genetics of Amber and Rebma simply unable to produce a healthy child?_ As Oberon returned the same greeting, Deirdre felt guilt rise in her stomach the longer she watched the girl. 

Oberon then proceeded to acknowledge Llewella as a child of his blood and even offered her a way to cure her feet.

“You are already too generous by acknowledging me, your majesty,-” Llewella didn’t feel at all thankful. She was of his blood, but this wasn’t her home. The air was too heavy, the ground too hard, the noise too loud, the clothing far too itchy on her skin. Llewella glanced at her older siblings, who looked perfectly fine in this environment. Even if her feet were treated, she would never be like them, because she would always be of Rebma to them. Just as she would always be from Amber if she lived in Rebma. “- there is no need to seek a cure for my feet. They are perfectly fine to move underwater.”

Shocked gasps echoed all around the throne room at Llewella's refusal and Oberon’s eyes turned a darker shade.

“Very well then,” Oberon finally replied and waved his hand towards his sons and daughters, “Go and meet your kin tonight.”

Llewella hastily bowed, once again nearly tripping, but keeping her balance.As Oberon and Clarissa stood up to mingle with the nobles, the little girl quickly began to explore the dining hall, dazzled by the way the sunlight set the colors of the banners and walls ablaze. In Rebma, only the shades of grey, green and blue of the sea were familiar to her. The girl looked up, saddened she couldn’t swim upon the chandeliers like in Rebma whenever she wished to be alone, with a handful of snacks and see the banners at a closer range. the snacks! How would the snacks be like? Llewella looked back in front of her and grinned when she saw the table.

"Your majesty." Moins noted the king of Amber coming close and the rebman queen curtsied. "I hope to see Llewella return to Rebma every once a while - as she has spent her entire childhood there, and a mother is just as important as the father." Moins addressed the king.

"But you needn't worry, lady Moins. Llewella will have a _new_ _mother_ here in Amber," Clarissa casually remarked.

"Indeed," Oberon absent-mindedly agreed as he looked at Llewella, who just began to knibble on one of the flowers that she picked from the decoration. Whispers of shock and disgust already began to echo around at the display of the estranged girl. "Llewella shall stay here to learn our ways of the court. We wouldn't want to confuse her by sending her from Amber to Rebma back and forth." 

Moins swallowed to keep her composure. "off course," Moins sourly replied, "Excuse me for a minute." Moins went to Llewella and quickly removed the flower from her hand, "Flowers are not eatable here, sweetheart." Moins said while wiping Llewella’s hand and face. "I have wonderful news as well. You are going to stay here a little while longer than mommy will and get to know your brothers and sisters! Isn't that exciting?"

Llewellas eyes began to nervously glance at her older siblings. "But you said they dont like me for being legitimized by father."

"Yes they don't like _that_ . That doesn't mean they may not like _you._ Go on, say hi." Moins gently pushed Llewella in the direction of Oberon's children.

Nervous and with fidgeting hands, Llewella stepped towards Eric, who was chatting with Corwin and Deirdre. "Excuse me... Hi!" Llewella felt her cheeks redden when Eric looked at her as if she were a seastar under his boot.

“Gongratulations!” Erics voice was already thick from alcohol, and sharp fromsarcasm and bitterness, " _Now get lost!"_

“I wish I could, for you and me both." Llewella quietly replied.

Eric blinked in surprise at her words, before a scowl appeared on his face. "don't walk in my fucking way," the prince briskly replied, nearly trampling Llewella in the process as he stormed off.

Llewella turned towards Corwin, who already began to back off as if he were disgusted by her presence and quickly followed his older brother. Llewella turned to the the remaining person. "Hello Deirdre." Llewella uttered, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable to try and make an effort.

"Hallo, Llewella." Deirdre crunched till she was at eye-level to the girl and kissed her on the cheek, "It's wonderful meeting you!"

Surprised, Llewella met Deirdre's eyes after she felt her kiss and the girl returned the the gesture with a hug. "Likewise!" Llewellas smile became nervous when she approached the redheads. "Hallo Fiona." Llewella raised her hand, quickly realized the woman wouldn't take it and quickly modified her gesture to wave instead.

Before Llewella could address Bleys, the redhead already came forward and scooped the girl from the ground with a roaring laugh. "Finally I get to meet my favorite little sister!" Bleys loudly declared. "Welcome to Amber."

Llewella had backed off at Bleys' approach, but her fright quickly vanished when she realised the redhead had no intention to hurt her. "Your words are much appreciated, Bleys" The girl gave the prince a smile, put her arms around his neck and giggled when she felt his beard prickle her cheek.

As Bleys put her back to her feet though, it became clear his greeting had been so loud that a great many conversations died out for a few seconds to watch the two of them - Llewella winced when Clarissa was among them. the warmth and attention that Bleys had resonated, now felt too overbearing, and a different, much colder gleam began to appear in his eyes.

“Allow me to give your first dance here in Amber." Bleys went on saying, and he reached his hand out for her to take it.

“My feet unfortunately do not allow me to dance properly. I would trample yours.” Llewella hastily declined before his warm behavior could spell her again.

"Oh," Bleys' exuberant behavior completely melted away, and he turned just as cold as Eric and Corwin were. "thats unfortunate."

“But I have heard of a beautiful garden in this castle. I would like to visit it-”

“The garden is closed for special occasions like these,” Brand bluntly interrupted. His eyes shone with as much wrath as his mother.

“A pity,” Llewella calmly replied as she regarded the redhead closest to her age. "Hallo Brand." She had seen her fair share of sharks below Amber. But Llewella had come to learn that sharks tend to be more afraid of them, than the other way around. 

Not to mention that they were delicious to eat.

Llewella limped forward to offer Brand her hand, just as the trumpets called that dinner was served. “Which seat is mine?” The girl sweetly asked.

Brand didn’t budge. Neither did Llewella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dworkin tells Corwin how "Benedict carries a mark of doom" during the 4th book. Those words have always stuck with me and it seemed as if Dworkin implied that Benedict was bloodcursed. And then there is Eric, who wasn't legitimized "to smootth over Cymnea's family," according to Corwin. hm...
> 
> Bleys is seriously overshadowed by Fiona and Brand when it comes to sorcery, but he greatly makes up for it with his charm. I wanted to make it shine here.
> 
> "The moonriders of Ghenesh" were briefly mentioned by Corwin during his climb up Kolvir. I began to dig in folklore for something that would fit with these creatures: a (often) female demon who 'rides' her victims in the night, and is the cause of sleep paralysis. The word "Night-mare" literally derives from this creature. 
> 
> It was a fresh air to write Moins and Llewella and provide a stark contrast to Clarissa and Brand. Corwin questions whether nurture or nature ultimately caused Brand's downfall, but one tends to forget that not just Oberon has put his stamp upon his children, but also their respective mothers.
> 
> I wanted Llewella to have a certain innocence/confidence about her: being raised with only Moire as her bigger sibling and basically second in line to Rebma's throne, she didn't have to beg for attention. However here she is plunged in a completely different environment, with a pre-existing hierarchy of siblings, of whom some may hold grudges for her being legitimized....


End file.
